


Better Than I Know Myself

by laudanum_cafe



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Fall Out Boy, Queen + Adam Lambert
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, First Times, Fluff and Smut, Hiatus Era Fall Out Boy, Kissing, Light BDSM, M/M, Medication, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pharaoh Lambert, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Queen + Adam Lambert - Freeform, Smut, Soul Punk Era Patrick Stump, Soul Punk Tour, Threesome - M/M/M, fall out boy - Freeform, glam nation tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudanum_cafe/pseuds/laudanum_cafe
Summary: In the aftermath of the hiatus, Patrick emerges from the ashes of Fall Out Boy with a new look and a new sound. He goes on tour to support his solo albumSoul Punkas the opening act for Adam Lambert on theGlam Nationtour.Pete, missing his estranged friend, unexpectedly attends one of the shows and is stunned by what he finds.**Cause if I wanted to go I would have gone by nowBut I really need you near me to keep my mind off the edgeIf I wanted to leave I would have left by nowBut you're the only one that knows meBetter than I know myself





	1. Whataya Want From Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnitchesAndTalkers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnitchesAndTalkers/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my beloved wifey, [Snitches!!](https://sn1tchesandtalkers.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I adore you to death and I hope you have a wonderful birthday! You've been such a huge support and always such a dedicated friend. I love you with my entire being and I hope you enjoy this little gift.
> 
> **
> 
> Some notes...as always, this work is unbeta'd because I'm a real G. Thug Life. 
> 
> I've taken some liberties with the timelines and events for the Fall Out Boy hiatus, Soul Punk era, and the Glam Nation tour. We're going to pretend that _Soul Punk_ and _For Your Entertainment_ were released in the same year and that Patrick opened for Adam on tour. 
> 
> You don't really need to know much about Adam Lambert to enjoy this fic, since the main focus will always be Peterick. I do recommend that you check out Adam Lambert's debut album, _For Your Entertainment_ , because it's fucking SICK. Also, check out some of the videos of the Glam Nation Tour. Fucking stunning.

**PW:** hey. 

**PW:** i know it’s late and we havent really talked in a few months. 

**PW:** are you up?

**PW:** nah...of course ur not up

**PW:** ive been reading reviews of the tour. 

**PW:** im so proud of you. 

**PW:** my little boy is all grown up lol

**PW:** love the album...preordered it when it was announced...i listen to it every day.

**PW:** it lets me pretend ur singing to me again like the old days touring

…

…

**PW:** guess ur sleeping. 

**PW:** hit me up when ur free...id love to catch up. 

**PW:** text or call. whichever you prefer. 

**PW:** i do miss your voice tho. so you should call. 

**PW:** or just txt if you don’t have time to have a convo.

**PW:** I’ll take what I can get

**PW:** i just miss you trick. 

**PW:** i hope you sleep well...have a good show tomorrow. 

**PW:** good night patrick.

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick wasn’t sleeping. 

 

The sun would be rising soon and he knew he really,  _ really _ needed to get some sleep but it just wasn’t happening. They had an early morning bus call in just a few hours, but sleep definitely didn’t feel like it was going to come anytime soon. Lack of sleep seemed to be a nightly theme these days and he wasn’t really sure what was causing it. Patrick’s body was being pushed to the farthest brinks of exhaustion on a daily basis; the long days of touring, afternoons filed with set up and rehearsals, endless evenings of high-powered performances, late nights filled with blissful ecstasy and fervid love making…

 

Theoretically speaking, Patrick’s body should be collapsing easily into the sweet embrace of somnolence but it appeared his restless mind and his lamenting heart has forbidden his rest. 

 

For the first time in his life, Patrick was suffering from insomnia. 

 

In the last two weeks, Patrick was probably averaging two or three hours a night of sleep. It was absolute hell on his psyche, made his nerves feel like glass that could be shattered by the smallest movement, made his already fragile attention span disappear completely, and sometimes he thought he was starting to hear things. 

 

He never felt more understanding of his (former?) best friend’s nighttime sufferings and his inability to keep his shit together at times. 

 

Even though he hasn’t communicated with Pete beyond an occasional text or email in almost six months, Patrick felt like he finally understood the cause of Pete’s certifiable exploits and felt a deeper kinship with his élan vital. 

 

Patrick  _ should _ be able to sleep after the long day and even more strenuous night that he had, yet his mind was working overtime. Instead of traveling through dreamscapes of quixotic escapades, he was scrolling through his phone, reading various articles, and skimming through some of his favorite blogs.

 

Then, out of nowhere, the texts from Pete started to come in. 

 

His phone buzzed to life as each message was delivered in rapid, back to back succession. His phone was on silent but the illumination of the screen in an otherwise darkened room, coupled with the constant vibrations the device was making, was enough to rouse his bedmate.

 

Patrick felt movement as Adam turned over on his side of the bed, threw an arm around Patrick’s nude waist, and pulled himself closer. A sleepy kiss placed somewhere near his shoulder and collar bone. “You can’t sleep, darling? Who’s texting you?”

 

Patrick clicked the side of his phone to obscure the screen and placed it face down on top of the nightstand. “No, I couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind again.” For a moment he considered not answering the last one of Adam’s questions but figured it may help to just say it. “That was Pete. He sent me a bunch of text messages.”

 

Adam’s eyes opened fully, Arctic blue orbs peering up into Patrick’s face. Patrick looked a bit guilty and forlorn, so the dark haired man sat up and shifted so he could face his blonde bedmate. The room was dark but the light drifting in from the cracks in the blinds were enough to illuminate the room so they could see each other’s faces. Adam leaned over and tapped on Patrick’s chin so he would turn his head and look at him. 

 

“Darling, that’s great news.” Adam spoke in a quiet and soothing tone. He wanted Patrick to feel safe in expressing his feelings. “What did you say to him?”

 

Patrick looked deep into Adam’s eyes, surprised yet again at how easily the Glam God was able to extract the thoughts and feelings he worked so hard to bury. This man had an infallible ability to strike him deep in his core. “Actually...I...I didn’t reply. You know? I just...I couldn’t. Not yet, at least. I want to...really. You already know that. It’s just. I still feel too raw. I’m..it’s like what...you know?”

 

Patrick might not have been able to convert his mess of emotions into coherent words, but Adam understood perfectly, nonetheless. “Yes, I do know. Your head and heart are still unravelled and you don’t feel comfortable communicating with him while you’re in this state. You feel vulnerable and defenseless. You’re afraid of getting hurt and inflicting pain back onto Pete in retaliation.”

 

Patrick nodded, once again relieved by Adam’s precise empathic abilities. His recently bleached blonde hair was still stiff and sticky with sweat and product and looked like a hot mess. It looked as out of control as his feelings.

 

“Don’t worry, Patrick. You’ll get there soon enough, I know you will. But it’s perfectly acceptable to need more time.” Adam was smiling as Patrick nodded, face softening a little and shoulders relaxing. 

 

Adam slowly pulled the sheets away from Patrick’s lap, exposing him completely. Patrick gasped when the biting cold air of the air conditioning hit his skin and reflexively reached for the comforter to cover himself back up. Adam tugged the covering away again. 

 

“You need a distraction, darling. I want you to let go and just let things be right now.” Adam reached out and softly started to run his fingers over Patrick’s flaccid cock and through the dark golden and auburn curls of his pubic hair. 

 

The skin on Patrick’s arms and legs prickled, partially due to the feather light tickles Adam’s touch effected, partially from the brisk artificial air being pumped into the room, and partially from being completely exposed and knowing he wasn’t allowed to cover his modesty. Whatever Adam instructed, Patrick was to follow. 

 

It was part of the dynamic they developed on this tour and it helped clear Patrick’s addled mind when everything and everyone became too overwhelming…

 

When nothing he did went right. 

When he couldn’t manage to control his emotions. 

When he wanted to give up. 

When he regretted his life choices. 

When he was a nothing to this world. 

 

Patrick closed his eyes and followed the track of Adam’s fingers along his body with his mind; across the softness of his inner thighs, over his tightly drawn balls, a single finger along the shaft of his penis. He heard the  _ scritch scritch scritch  _ as the older man scratched his pubic hairs and then felt the warmth of his palm as it covered and softly rubbed over his genitals. 

 

“Relax your thoughts. Clear your head. Breathe.” 

 

Patrick did as he was instructed, allowing his heavy heart and his grieved psyche to still, and focused only on the feel of Adam’s fist stroking his now awakening cock. 

 

“That’s good, darling. Relax. Slow and steady your breaths. There you go.” Adam continued his ministrations in silence as he felt Patrick’s body relax and his arousal starting to kindle. “Now, what is the first thing that comes to mind?”

 

Patrick opened his eyes and looked down at Adam’s hand working his cock. A deep shudder over taking him as fantasy and reality collided. “Your hands. You paint your nails black. Like Pete. Pete...I’ve always loved his hands.”

 

Adam hummed, pleased with the blonde’s response. “You’ve always wanted his hands on you like this, yeah?”

 

Patrick gripped the sheets and moaned. “Yeah...Always. Always wanted that.”

 

“I bet you’ve wanted more than just his hands, hmm? The way you speak about him...with burning anger and deep frustration. But you also speak of him with great adoration and intense reverence. That’s desire and passion you’re feeling for him, darling. Make no mistake.”

 

Adam moved to straddle Patrick’s thighs, continuing to stroke his hard cock, leaning down to bite on a pale, freckled shoulder. “Stop overthinking the past. Just focus on the right now. Let go. Just feel.”

 

Adam pulled back and started working his way down Patrick’s body, leaving a trail of nips and kisses along the way. He dragged his bottom lip from the base of Patrick’s prick all the way to the head, licking from the frenulum and up to the tip, taking in the drops of pre-cum that had begun to leak out. 

 

“Remember what we talked about? About learning to be true to yourself? Think about nothing else but your deepest desire and just let your body react. Don’t hold back, darling. It’s okay. I’ll take you through it.”

 

Patrick watched as Adam lowered his mouth completely around Patrick’s engorged member and tensed. Adam’s head was turned to the side and from this angle, Patrick could almost imagine that the mess of straightened, black dyed bangs that were cascading over his lap actually belonging to Pete. His Pete. His magnificent motherfucker. 

 

It felt so wrong to finally be allowed to fantasize about his best friend, but Adam had a way of letting him be free.

 

Patrick took hold of Adam’s sticky, sweaty hair and held on as he allowed himself to drown in the memories of Pete as Adam sucked him down. 

  
  


**

  
  


**PW:** do u remember the days when i thought we were immortal?

**PW:** we were angels and kings

**PW:** i really thought we could live forever

**PW:** there’s only one true queen and he knew there’s no chance for us...it’s all decided for us...this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

**PW:** i never knew true loss before but i live in regret each day now

**PW:** i opened the mailbox one day and found a reminder of everything i lost

**PW:** your album is perfect, trick

**PW:** im glad you found ur freedom

…

…

**PW:** forever is your today. 

 

 

**

 

 

For Patrick, touring in support of  _ Soul Punk  _ was filled with a wide assortment of new experiences and first times. Being the opening act in a tour wasn’t something new, but the people that stood beside him on stage each night were. Playing songs that he wrote and recorded by himself was another first he never thought he’d ever experience. Full creative freedom, a fresh new look, a streamlined image...

 

A few months before  _ The Hiatus™️  _ officially began, Patrick found himself becoming close with a very unlikely artist.

 

Meeting Adam Lambert was the result of one of those strange moments of serendipity that one reads about in novels. Patrick found himself one night at some Hollywood party that he would normally have avoided like the plague. For some odd reason, he caved in to Pete’s incessant requests that Patrick tag along and ended up being the awkward and ignored third wheel to Pete’s unquenchable ego. He drifted off to hide in dark corners, sipping as many free cocktails as he could attain, as he watched Pete pose, play, and be on display for all of the sycophants in attendance. Pete fell easily into the comforting embrace of fascination and adulation; riding high on the sustained note of panegyrical laudation.

 

Patrick watched in disgust for a while, slowly losing the feeling of obligation as Pete drifted farther away from him. So easily forgotten when something much more alluring and interesting was laid out before him. 

 

Enough was enough. He could only take so much. 

 

Fueled by anger and resentment, Patrick gathered himself and turned to make a swift escape when he literally ran into Adam Lambert. 

 

“Whoa, dude. Careful.” the tall man chuckled looking down at Patrick’s red, flustered face. “Hey...are you okay?”

 

How Patrick managed not to see this man’s stately six foot, one inch frame, draped in a brightly bedazzled and unmistakably eye catching purple blazer, Patrick will never know. 

 

“Oh...shit...I’m so sorry. Um, wow. That was totally my bad.” Patrick was already feeling thoroughly humiliated for ungraciously running into this magnificent looking gentleman and now he was just making shit worse by flubbing his words. “I didn’t see...like, you. Cos, I was just...you know...that way.”

 

“Yeah, I hear you. Trying to make a quick and stealth getaway. Slip away unnoticed. Make a clandestine retreat.”

 

Patrick’s eyes immediately locked on to Adam’s face, shocked this stranger knew  _ exactly  _ what he was thinking. “Yes.”

 

Before he knew it, instead of an early exit, Patrick found himself spending the remainder of the evening with Adam and even accompanied him to an all hours café after the event was over to continue their conversation. 

 

They kept in touch after that; text messaging or emailing one another almost on a daily basis and promising one another that they would get together and work on some music. Someday. One day. For sure. 

 

Turned out, those collaborative efforts would be much sooner than later. 

 

Barely three months after Patrick and Adam first met, Fall Out Boy officially called it quits. Even though the decision to split was Patrick’s call, it was still a painful and deeply heartbreaking one to make. Thankfully, Adam was there to provide friendly support and an unbiased ear, never judging or giving him unwanted any advice. 

 

Some things were beyond repair...and sometimes a person just needed to vent their feelings and cry their eyes out. 

 

Once some of the dust had settled and the shock of being without his band, Adam pulled Patrick into the studio for some much needed distraction and a way to work through finding what his new identity should be. 

 

The music that Patrick composed and the lyrics he wrote flowed out of him faster than it ever have in his entire musical life. He was fueled by pain, anguish raw and untempered, working through this mourning period by purging the depth of his heart into requiem and elegy.

 

A psalm for the unloved...

A lullabye to terrify...

 

Tapping into some of the most raw emotion he had ever experienced, Patrick emerged triumphant when he penned the song  _ Sleepwalker  _ for Adam. Never before has Patrick written a song so unapologetically true, so vulnerably nude, and so endlessly fragile. 

 

That was a monumental first for him. 

 

With  _ Sleepwalker  _ completed and gifted to Adam for him to record on his debut album, Patrick worked on two more songs for the solo artist,  _ Aftermath  _ and  _ Fever _ .  _ Aftermath  _ was another song resulting from the pain of loss, but delivering a message of hope that you can survive and eventually come through the other side even stronger than before.  _ Fever  _ was a sexy and very tongue-in-cheek pop number that Lady Gaga had written for Adam and Patrick contributed some additional electronic sequences and guitar parts for the song. 

 

When the writing process complete, Adam had to fly back out to the west coast to complete recording the final vocals on  _ For Your Entertainment _ , Patrick found himself feeling a bit stronger and decided to go back into the lab to start working on some more tracks...just for himself. 

 

It wasn’t long before he had  _ Soul Punk  _ completed and he found himself whisked off on tour with Adam Lambert. 

 

His new, ultra slim body was another first. The rapid weight loss was somewhat unintentional; primarily the result of six months of heart sickness, no appetite, and constantly working. It wasn’t a healthy way to lose weight but for the first time in his life he felt content with his reflection. The fat fucker in trucker hats, bad vests, and cartoon shoes was gone. Now, when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was a lithe body, razor sharp cheekbones, and hips that could cut glass. His new frame, coupled with a new wardrobe, fit the look of the  _ Glam Nation _ aesthetic perfectly.

 

The first leg of the tour for  _ Glam Nation  _ and  _ Soul Punk  _ was remarkable. Adam’s stage antics and captivating performance was something to be studied. Watching the lusty exchanges between Adam and his bassist, Tommy Joe Ratliff, brought back memories of his own stage gay with his former bassist...though what he shared with Pete was nowhere near as overt. Watching Adam and Tommy every night on stage struck a sinking pang of jealousy deep in Patrick’s stomach. Patrick was so focused on keeping Pete’s affections at arms length for years when all he really wanted to do was reel him in and mold his lips to every inch of his heated body. Seeing Adam and Tommy so free with their affections...it hurt, quite frankly. 

 

“But what is it _really_ that bothers you about it, Patrick?” Adam asked one night after a show in Indiana. “Does it remind you of your boy?”

 

Patrick felt himself turning red. In the short time he and Adam had become close, the older man had this infallible ability to practically read his mind and know the truth of what his heart wants. Yet another trait that was eerily reminiscent of Pete. 

 

“Yeah, I guess it does. It makes me think of all the should haves and what-ifs, you know? But that’s just me living in a fantasy. That shit wasn’t real. What we did...I mean, how he acted on stage with me during Fall Out Boy...it’s not like you and Tommy. He just liked fucking with me. He never meant it.” 

 

“Are you quite sure about that, darling? From the little I know of Pete and the two times I’ve spoken to him, the one thing he seems most passionate about is you.” Adam slid closer to Patrick on the couch, crowding into the petite blonde’s space. “Have you ever kissed another man before?”

 

Patrick startled, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t expecting the shift in conversation. “Well, Pete...I mean, with him...but...um, kinda, I guess. On stage. And one time at some party after  _ Grave _ was released?”

 

Adam was scrutinizing Patrick’s face, studying his tells and filing them away for future reference. “No, that’s not the kind of kissing I was referring to.”

 

Adam leaned in closer, slow enough to not startle Patrick and allow the younger man the chance to pull away if he wanted. “I’m not talking about kisses on the necks of best friends, darling.” Adam turned his head and pressed his lips to Patrick’s jawline, nipping the soft flesh once before licking at his pulse point, and nuzzling his earlobe. “Or a few drunken pecks exchanged in the safe shadow of the dark but are easily forgotten in the light of day.”

 

Adam pulled back only an inch or two to make eye contact with Patrick. “No, darling. I mean a conversation of the hearts spoken with only the press of lips and tongue and teeth.”

 

Patrick was starting to tremble, a trickle of perspiration tickling the back of his neck. “No. Nothing like...no.”

 

Adam stroked Patrick’s thin hair for a moment, then moved his hand down to tip up his chin and leaned in slowly to press their lips together. Adam moved his lips around Patrick’s, finding the smaller man to be easily responsive. Humming with approval, Adam deepened the kiss. His arms were wrapped around Patrick’s waist so he pulled the blonde into his lap. Patrick let out a huff, a little surprised at the move, but returned to kissing Adam, this time with much more enthusiasm. 

  
  


**

  
  


**PW:** hey trick 

**PW:** saw some promo clips on you tube today

**PW:** the one about area codes

**PW:** 773...but i remember when when we both used to be 847

**PW:** i thought about calling you today but was afraid the nice robot lady on the phone would tell me this number was no longer in service

**PW:** i know the song of that old dial tone remains the same but i was afraid to call anyways

**PW:** remember when a person’s phone number had a specific tune to it?

**PW:** everything about you is music

**PW:** anyways. good luck with the tour. maybe one day i’ll be brave enough to call instead of sending messages you’ll never reply to

**PW:** but we both know i’m a coward and never will

  
  


**

  
  


“Come on, Trick. Let me see.” Adam said with a laugh as he flung himself onto the the large bed in the back of his tour bus. 

 

Patrick halted his motions, unbuttoned shirt being pulled back on to cover his partially exposed chest as he glared daggers at Adam.

 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.  _ Patrick. _ ” The older singer quickly corrected himself once he realized his error. Calling Patrick any other variation of his name, or nickname that were even remotely close to the monikers that Pete had bestowed upon him in the past, was cause for an immediate and rather spectacular meltdown. 

 

Patrick kept a tight clutch onto the fabric of his button down shirt, his sea blue steel glaring into Adam’s arctic blue ice. The twist of anger he felt soon faded and his hesitation melted. The blonde continued to unbutton the rest of his shirt and allowed the fabric to cascade to the floor. His pants had already been discarded and he was left standing in his boxer briefs. “Well? What do you think?”

 

Adam sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge, waving his hands in a motion that indicated he wanted Patrick to stand closer. The blonde took five steps forward and Adam pulled him closer, so he was standing between his open legs, and began running his hands all over Patrick’s newly smoothed torso and arms. 

 

“Fucking beautiful.” Adam grinned. “I still can’t believe you actually did it. All games aside, I didn’t think you’d go for it.”

 

Patrick snorted and started to climb into the taller man’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. “When you said you wanted me to do a full body wax, my initial reaction was to kick your ass.” Patrick sat down fully over Adam’s lap, knees on either side of the older man’s hip. “But I like the games we’re playing. If I’m gonna do this I gotta commit, right?”

 

“I admire your determination.” Adam purred as he started to knead Patrick’s ass. “How ‘bout you take these granny panties off and show me the rest of you, hmm? I need to make sure they got every inch of you perfectly smooth.”

 

“Why don’t you just take my word for it? You don’t trust me?” Patrick teased as he stood up and started to remove this final layer of clothing. “These are not granny panties, you dick. And no, I’m not gonna wear those frilly, lacy panty things that you like so you can just jot that right down.”

 

“Alright, alright. Jesus, you’re a fucking spitfire, aren’t you? You really have a sassy ass mouth on you. Now get over here and let me show you what  _ my  _ mouth can do.”

  
  


**

  
  


**PW:** you ever wonder how hot dogs can survive in the wild if they have no eyes? 

**PW:** that curiosity will always haunt me

…

…

**PS:** Probably a strong sense of self. Since they are composed of many animals they have a lot of inner strength.

**PW:** that actually makes a lot of sense

…

…

**PS:** Hot dogs live a very similar lifestyle to the sea cucumber or "hot dog of the sea" as it is often called, however hot dogs are exclusively terrestrial. They are scavengers, living primarily on excrement, giving them their distinct "shitty" taste, which is effective defense against most predators. Humans, however, are the only species who has discovered that thirty seconds in a microwave, coupled with a bread covering, and sweetened tomato paste are effective in masking, and even neutralizing the unique taste of the hot dog.

**PW:** SEA CUCUMBER IS THE HOT DOG OF THE SEA!!!!!!!

**PS:** That’s my theory. 

**PW:** gods...i miss you so bad trick

**PS:** Go to sleep, Peter. 4am is not the time for this. 

**PW:** ok...i think i will

**PW:** thank you for answering.

**PS:** Anything for science.

**PW:** exactly

**PS:** Good night Pete. Sleep well. 

  
  


**

  
  


Pete wasn’t really thinking when he made his decision to go to one of Patrick’s concerts. It was one of those spur of the moment, spontaneously made, snap decisions. It was the result of feeling an intense adrenaline high from  _ finally _ getting a reply from Patrick after such a long period of radio silence, and the magic that the inbetween state of the post witching hour and the first rays of the pre-dawn light always creates. Pete was sitting quietly on his couch, house long ago empty of any other occupants, and just staring at the last message that Patrick had sent him: 

 

_ Good night Pete. Sleep well. _

 

Perhaps he was reading too much into the tone but Pete was  _ sure _ that Patrick was sounding fond and maybe even a little bit flirty. Pete was always one who read between the lines, spoke in metaphor, and could see the layers of hidden meanings in the simplest of things. Patrick knew Pete better than anyone in the world. He was familiar with Pete’s strange brand of flirting; ask strange question, initiate coquettish banter. 

 

Perhaps he was projecting a bit, but Pete threw caution to the wind and just went with his gut. 

 

Did he have a plan? Not really. He just figured he’d show up and everything would fall into place.

 

_It’s like what the Joker said in_ _The Dark Knight. “Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if i caught it. I just..._ ** _DO_** _things.”_

 

Pete grinned at the thought. Back in the day, when the bassist was making those horrendous homemade T-shirts, he’d definitely be ironing on some fuzzy velvet letters onto a black or maroon shirt with  _ I just  _ **_DO_ ** _ things  _ proudly emblazoned on across the chest. 

 

Patrick would have  _ loved  _ the Batman reference...but he probably would have  _ hated  _ how accurate that line described Petefuckingwentz.

 

Confident in his decision and giddy with  _ Oh my god I’m finally gonna see Trick!  _ on his brain, Pete put down his phone and grabbed his laptop; a quick search telling him that the next show of the tour would be in Seattle the following night and purchasing a plane ticket to fly out in a few hours. 

 

When the transaction was complete, he went to his room and started packing a backpack with a change of clothes and a few personal items. He could always just book a hotel when he got there.

  
  


**

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Sleepwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete attends the _Soul Punk_ / _Glam Nation_ concert in Seattle and was not prepared for what he saw on stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of my birthday gift for my beloved wifey, [Snitches!!](https://sn1tchesandtalkers.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I love you...so here's some light angst. Diet angst. 
> 
> **
> 
> As per usual, this work is unbeta'd because I'm a real G. Thug Life. 
> 
> I've taken some liberties with the timelines and events for the Fall Out Boy hiatus, Soul Punk era, and the Glam Nation tour. We're going to pretend that _Soul Punk_ and _For Your Entertainment_ were released in the same year and that Patrick opened for the Adam on tour. 
> 
> You don't really need to know much about Adam Lambert to enjoy this fic, since the main focus will always be Peterick. I do recommend that you check out Adam Lambert's debut album, _For Your Entertainment_ , because it's fucking SICK. Also, check out some of the videos of the Glam Nation Tour. Fucking stunning.

Entering the  _ Showbox SoDo _ as an audience member, instead of a member of one of the performing bands, was a little surreal for Pete. It had been a lifetime since he went to a concert without pulling any strings for backstage passes or VIP access. Today, he just went up to the box office window, like a common civilian, and purchased a general admission ticket. The guy working the booth looked like he recognized Pete but didn’t say anything to confirm Pete’s suspicions. Maybe the ticket booth guy just figured he was just some former Fall Out Boy fan and Pete Wentz wannabe, curious to see what their former lead vocalist was up to. 

 

The venue was pretty packed; tons of lovely ladies and even more beautiful men we gathered in clusters throughout the interior. Glitter seemed to be covering everyone’s body and Pete was already bejeweled in the stuff after just 10 minutes of being inside the theatre. That shit was a nightmare to get off and he knew he was going to find glitter on his clothes for months regardless of how often he washed it. 

 

Now that he was actually here, Pete’s nerves were starting to get to him. He really didn’t think this far ahead or have any idea of what he planned to do once he got here. ( _ Dog chasing a car...I just  _ **_DO_ ** _ things…)  _ On one hand, he wanted to catch up with Patrick after the show and actually speak face to face...but on the other hand, maybe the singer wouldn’t want that. Patrick has  _ never  _ liked surprises. He always liked to adhere to a detailed schedule,  _ hated  _ any sort of changes in plans, and needed some sort of a head’s up for pretty much everything in his life. 

 

Regardless of whether or not he decided to try and meet up with his old friend, one thing was for certain, Pete was desperate to watch Patrick perform on stage.

 

He pre-ordered  _ Soul Punk  _ the moment Patrick announced it on his website and spent a solid three weeks with the album on continuous play. Surprisingly, he hadn’t watched any of the performances uploaded by fans onto You Tube. That was just a bit too painful for him.

 

But to watch Patrick perform live and in the flesh...Pete was itching with excitement for that.

 

He worked his way over to one of the bars that was off to the side of the building, took up residence on an empty barstool, ordered a few shots and a beer to calm his nerves, and waited for the time to pass until showtime. 

  
  


**

  
  


Three shots of whiskey and one beer later, the crowds started to converge towards the front of the stage as the lights went down and the intro music started to play. Pete was tempted to push his way to the front, to start throwing elbows in the crowd like he was a teenager trying to secure a prime location at the edge of the pit to watch his favorite local band, but he didn’t want to run the risk of recognition. This was Patrick’s time to shine and the last thing he wanted was to start drawing a crowd just because he’s Pete Wentz. If Patrick were to catch sight of that, he’d surely be unwilling to meet up with him after the show.

 

Pete made his way down, staying a little bit back and to the side of the stage. His hoodie was pulled up and his sleeves pulled down in an attempt to remain incognito. He already stood out wearing his oversized black hoodie, jeans, and the backpack he brought on the plane. There were a handful of kids wearing skinny jeans and Fall Out Boy t-shirts but the majority of the audience were in full fancy dress attire, decked out like they were attending an Alice in Wonderland themed party (or were personally styled by Ryan Ross).

 

A few more minutes passed and then the band took stage, waving to the crowd as they gathered their instruments, and started to play. Pete recognized the opening bars of the iconic song immediately. Pete smiled fondly...of  _ course _ Patrick would open with a Bowie cover. After the band played a few more measures, the spotlight went on and Patrick pranced up to the stage. 

 

Pete just wasn’t at all prepared for what he saw. 

 

Patrick fucking Stump, looking slimmer than he had ever seen in his entire life, decked out in a devastating red suit, hair bleach blonde and styled in a mess of gelled spikes. He took to the microphone stand with confidence and swagger, shaking his hips, snapping his fingers, and dancing to the beat of the song. He wasn’t hiding behind his usual barriers; there was no hat pulled low over his eyes so he couldn’t see the crowd, nor was he playing a guitar. It was just him; magnetic, electric, pulsing with life, and channeling all things  _ SEDUCTION  _ and  _ DESIRE  _ with the way he was moving his body.

 

Pete found himself moving closer to the stage with each passing song. He couldn’t seem to control himself; Patrick had cast a spell over Pete and he was helpless. He was pulled forward by a power greater than himself...drawn in closer...closer. He was watching every move Patrick made, hypnotized by his voice and emboldened by his moves. 

 

It felt like he had been watching for a mere handful of minutes but before he knew it, Patrick was announcing his final song of the evening, easily chatting with the audience and engaging his bandmates in some playful banter before going into  _ This City.  _

 

After the song was played, Patrick gave his thanks to the audience, smiling and laughing as he accepted some gifts thrust at him by some girls in the front row, and exited stage left as the house lights came back on and the stage crew starting moving gear to set up for Adam Lambert’s set.

 

And just like that, the spell was broken.

 

As the crowd dispersed to use the restroom or get a drink between sets, Pete was left standing in a pool of self realization. This Patrick was brand new, nothing at all like the kid that walked away from Fall Out Boy, and he had no right being there. He knew nothing of this Golden Adonis that had appeared out of the ether right before his eyes. He was a Glimmering God, all sharp lines, sweat, and perfection. He was a perfectly formed, flawless diamond. Pete looked down at himself and realized that he was way in over his head. Patrick was so far out of his league now and showing up uninvited to stand before the feet of royalty looking like a filthy pauper was definitely a bad idea. Pete was two days unshowered and embarrassingly under dressed...he was in no shape to be seen by Patrick right now. Maybe he’d never be good enough for Patrick again. Maybe his window of opportunity was closed and any chance he may have had at making things work was long gone. 

 

Pete pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and scrolled through the last text messages between him and Patrick, trying desperately to see if the flirty spark he thought he saw was still there. 

 

It wasn’t.

 

With his mind settled back down into the terra firma of reality, Pete could now see the error of this decision. Coming to see Patrick in person, in  _ his  _ territory, was a tremendously stupid fucking idea. He should just leave now and head straight to the airport to catch the first flight back home. 

 

But Pete couldn’t leave without letting Patrick know he was there.

 

He thought for a moment, debating with himself on whether or not to be a reasonable adult, a indulge a little in his petty side. He considered sending a photo of the stage with a congratulatory message; just a little something to let Patrick know he was there. He raised his phone up and angled the device to capture a slightly grainy image of Patrick’s banner, which was still hanging high above the drum kit that was being torn down and moved off stage. Pete felt the familiar territorial twinge twisting in the pit of his stomach and spreading all throughout his chest and into his extremities. Even though Pete had made the decision to back out of meeting Patrick face to face, he  _ needed  _ to let him know that he was there. Watching. 

 

Pete started to compose the text message that would accompany the image of the stage. Knowing Patrick, he probably wouldn’t check his phone for hours but he still felt the need to send the message. Pete wished he could be there to witness his friend’s reaction. Would he be happy? Angry? Indifferent?

 

_ Dear gods, please be anything but indifferent.  _

 

Pete found himself back at the same barstool he was on earlier. The waitress was busy with the throngs of glittery patrons but tipped her head towards him, silent inquiring if he wanted another drink. Deciding  _ why not _ , Pete nodded and ordered a beer when she made her way back down to this end of the bar. Pete figured he may as well enjoy another drink or two since he was already here. The airport would be there regardless of what time he decided to leave the venue so there was no need to rush. 

 

Time passed quickly as Pete continued to procrastinate composing his message to Patrick. Words, normally his forte, were eluding him tonight. Seemed like nothing in his life could go his way.

 

Eventually, he noticed movement as the crowd started to gather towards the front of the stage. Adam’s set was fully erected and the audience was assembled before it in shining anticipation. Pete wasn’t really familiar with Adam Lambert’s music but he did remember the singer from his time on American Idol. He rooted for the kid, thinking he was refreshingly different, and was sorely disappointed when he lost to the boy-next-door stylings of Kris Allen. Pete also recalled a few brief interactions with the singer just before the hiatus. He didn’t take Adam and Patrick’s friendship at the time seriously; saw it only as a passing acquaintanceship and nothing more. 

 

Apparently, we was wrong about that. 

 

That sinking pang of possessiveness gripped Pete’s stomach with an iron fist. Images of Adam taking Patrick under his wing, being the one to help change his image, to show him the way to move on stage, the one to finally draw out the Golden Boy’s confidence...Pete was always trying to do that. Spent the last nine years of his life trying to do that…

 

Adam was able to accomplish that in under a year.

 

It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was absolute  _ bullshit.  _ Yeah, Patrick wasn’t his anymore and, if he was being brutally honest with himself (which,  _ come on... _ we all know he wasn’t ready to accept the naked truth), the Golden Boy really never belonged to him in the first place. But Pete felt he was deserving of that claim. Besides, it was common fucking knowledge that Patrick was his...in all the gloriously weird and wrong ways as much as all the good and golden ways. 

 

Pete could feel his temper starting to get away from him as he had these contemplations. Jealousy was always a dangerous motivator.

 

Before his thoughts could get too vengeful and poisonous, a shiny distraction presented itself in the form of the house lights lowering and the stage coming to life in hues of deep blues. The rumbling bass could be felt deep in his bones as the sequenced intro track announced the show was about to start. As the recording of the chorus of  _ For Your Entertainment  _ faded into the first chords of the live band’s performance of  _ Voodoo,  _ the main spotlight came up to illuminate Adam Lambert as he took center stage. Pete had to admit, he was a sight; dressed in a floor length purple coat with raven feather shoulder accents, a top hat adorned with a calligraphic letter A, and gripping a custom bedazzled wireless microphone with his fucking  _ black fingerless gloves  _ (Pete clenched his jaw so tightly when he saw the gloves, exactly like the ones Patrick was wearing during his performance). 

 

Adam looked like the ruler of Wonderland. 

 

Pete found himself once again moving through the crowd to get a better view, hypnotized by the Voodoo that Adam was singing about. He was starting to understand the allure. The stage production was theatrical in a way that his band would never have considered; choreographed dancers, elaborate costumes and makeup, lighting synchronized with the music. Soon  _ Voodoo  _ ended as it blended into the next song,  _ Down The Rabbit Hole,  _ and Pete found himself shaking his head. The Alice in Wonderland theme was always a favorite of his, so much so that he insisted it to be the theme for his own wedding to Ashlee. 

 

With Patrick momentarily forgotten, Pete immersed himself in watching Adam’s performance. All personal feelings aside, he saw that there was a lot to be learned from the man on stage. He had an unmistakable presence and could  _ sing.  _ Maybe he should consider starting a musical project of his own.  _ Maybe I should work with a female vocalist this time, someone with sex appeal and a voice to match...those raven feathers are pretty cool, too...hmm, maybe the look could be kinda, sorta goth or something...like the King and Queen of the Unseelie Court kinda shit...she could have a choker adorned with raven plumes...I could have a coat with black feather epaulets. Why not? I may have to go back to the flat ironed bangs again, but it could be cool... _

 

Pete was deeply distracted by his thoughts, coming up with various ideas for a musical project that would never come to be. If he was paying attention to the performance and to Adam’s banter with the audience, he would have heard when his boy was introduced to perform on the next song. But Pete wasn’t paying attention, so he wasn’t prepared to see Patrick saunter up onto the stage, guitar slung low on his hips...much lower than he usually had it. 

 

Pete froze like a deer in headlights, stomach sinking, and blood draining from his face. 

 

Adam stood at the very edge of the stage, flocked on either side by bassist Tommy Ratliff to his left and Patrick to his right...a tall and stately Raven King with a matched set of perfectly petite, bleach blonde courtesans on either side. 

 

Bookends. 

Chinese fucking fingercuffs.

 

It was a direct insult. It was a fucking challenge. How fucking  _ dare  _ they?

 

Pete's fury was escalating to levels of unmanageable proportions. He could feel the ice cold waves of jealousy and regret cascading over him as he watched Adam sling an arm around Patrick’s shoulder with such easy familiarity as the singer welcomed him on stage. 

 

And then the song started…

 

_ There he goes, my baby walks so slow,  _ (Adam rolled his body as Tommy grinded against the singer’s back),  _ sexual tic-tac-toe...yeah I know we both know it isn’t time  _ (Adam faced Tommy, stroking his cheek and tipping his chin up to face him) _...but would you be mine… _

 

Pete held his breath as Adam gave Tommy a quick, open mouthed kiss, tongues swirling visibly, and then turned his attention to Patrick.

 

_ We’ll never get too far...just you, me, and the bar, kinda menage a trois sometimes,  _ (Adam had a grip on the back of Patrick’s neck, pulling the blonde close as he bent low and rolled his hips into Patrick’s)...

 

_ Would you be mine? Would you be mine? Would you be mine?  _

 

Time stood still for Pete as he watched, in horrid slow motion, as Adam now tilted Patrick’s head back and claimed his mouth in an even more passionate kiss than the one he shared with his bassist. The blonde was holding his white Stump-o-matic off to the side and hungrily pressing himself into Adam as far as he could manage, black fingerless gloves hands gripping the front of Adam’s coat. 

 

Their embrace only lasted for two measures but for Pete it seemed like an eternity.

 

The rest of the performance went by in a blur. With Pete’s worst nightmare playing out in front of him, there was little else he could focus on. He was feeling physically ill from watching his best friend on stage with Adam and Tommy. Patrick was notoriously intolerant of Pete’s stage antics, constantly complaining and becoming infuriated whenever he would step too close into his personal space on stage, kneel at his feet, or, gods forbid, actually kiss or lick him. Oh no, Pete was  _ never _ allowed anywhere near Patrick when they performed for fear of giving the audience the wrong idea but here he was  _ openly kissing another man on stage and looking hungry for so much more.  _

 

Pete was about to leave, feeling humiliated beyond belief, heart broken and tail between his legs. Leaving would probably be the smart thing to do. It would save him from adding more fuel to the fire of self loathing and preserve what little left of his badly chipped magnesium heart he still had.

 

But Pete Wentz wasn’t a smart man and self preservation was the exact opposite of what came naturally to him. 

 

So he stayed and forced himself to continue watching the concert.

 

Thankfully, the remainder of  _ Fever  _ had more choreographed dancing and less making out with the man he fucking loved. Pete had aggressively elbowed his way through the crowd to get to the front in order to get a closer view of this shit show. He wasn’t trying to make himself known to the performers on stage; his hoodie was still pulled up, keeping his anonymity safe.

 

When the song ended, he was positioned at the front with only one row of bodies keeping him from  being directly pressed up to the security barrier. He was able to see everything clear and up close. 

 

Once the song was over and the band and dancers started to regroup, Adam walked up to the front of the stage and addressed the crowd. “So, the theme of the evening, my darlings, is love. And it’s all sides of love...from the excitement that a new love brings, to the deepest depths of loss, and all of the types of loves that lie in between. The love between family and friends, and comrades in arms. And sometimes there is the type of love that is only shared in secret...is short lived and fleeting...there may not be much meaning but can work wonders for healing. Much like that last song, there is the love that is only found in the crashing of hips.” 

 

Adam paused for a moment as the audience cheered their approval. The singer leering a little before his face softening into an expression of seriousness. “Love has many faces and wears many masks. It is often the cause of great soaring highs, but sometimes love lives within heartache. This next song, ladies and gentlemen, you may not know this, was written by a very good friend of mine. You saw him earlier this evening when he brought down the house with his electrifying performance and you saw him again just now when he joined me on stage to play guitar in our homage to the love that lies in darkened rooms and under sweat soaked sheets.”

 

Pete found that he was gritting his teeth again; jaw locked so tight he could snap a tendon or break a tooth. Yet another insult flung directly at him. More proof that he was a failure. Another reminder that Patrick was never his. 

 

Adam waited another moment for the audience’s cheering to subside before speaking into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up to the one and only, the incomparable, the stunning, Patrick Stump.” The audience erupted into the loudest screams as the Golden Boy shyly approached Adam at the front of the stage, a sheepish grin on his face, and giving the crowd a little wave. Adam replaced the microphone on its stand, clapping his hands and smiling fondly at the blonde. He took a step back and allowed room for Patrick to take the mic and address the audience. 

 

“Thank you, everyone, so much. Yeah, so...when I wrote this song, I was living in the shadow of the darker side of love. It came from the anguish of loss...of losing a love before it has ever had a chance to take its first breath. The song was born of love unknown, love unfulfilled, a love unrequited. When there’s a hole inside of you that’s in the shape of someone else. When you realize you should have known better, should’ve tried to sing about anyone else but them. When you should’ve tried to go to sleep thinking about anything else in the world but them but some nights get so bad you almost pick up the phone. When you sleep with their old shirts and walk around in a daze...running into walls you can’t break down. This is  _ Sleepwalker. _ ”

 

The lights cut out as the opening keyboard sequences started to play. Pete was plunged into darkness; not the dark that engulfed the interior of the venue, but the darkness within himself. Patrick’s introduction of the song he wrote for Adam...he had his suspicions of what the song was about when he first listened to it but...to use references that only Pete would know...to use Pete’s own fucking  _ lyrics  _ to explain the song…

 

_ It’s a strange way of saying that I know I’m supposed to love you… _

 

As Adam began to sing, Pete pushed his way through the final barrier of bodies before him so he could be pressed as close to the stage as possible. As Adam began to sing the first verse, Pete listened to each word carefully. Now fully aware this was written  _ about him _ , he needed to study each word and watch Patrick’s body language. 

 

_ I saw a picture of you hanging in an empty hallway _ __   
_ I heard a voice that I knew, and I couldn't walk away _ __   
_ It sent me back to the end of everything _ __   
_ I tasted all, I tasted all the tears...again _ __   
  


Adam was subdued as he sang Patrick’s words, channeling heartbreak into every note and inflection.

 

_ Outside the rain's pouring down, there's not a drop that hits me _ __   
_ Scream at the sky but no sound is leaving my lips _ __   
_ It's like I can't even feel after the way you've touched me _ __   
_ I'm not asleep but I'm not awake _ _   
_ __ After the way you loved me...

_ I can't turn this around _ __   
_ I keep running into walls that I can't break down _ __   
_ I just wander around with my eyes wide shut...because of you _ _   
_ __ I'm a sleepwalker

 

As the first chorus ended, Patrick wanded up to stand beside Adam, mouthing along the words of the second verse as he played his guitar.

 

_ Everywhere that I go, I see another memory _ __   
_ And all the places we used to know, they're always there to haunt me _ __   
_ I walk around and I feel so lost and lonely _ __   
_ You're everything that I want _ __   
_ But you don't want me _ __   
  


Pete froze at the words that Adam sang, missing the second chorus entirely as his mind reeled. 

 

_ You’re everything that I want but you don’t want me… _

 

That line played on a fucking loop in Pete’s mind, the weight of it’s meaning pulling him under the waves, pain filling his lungs like water. 

 

As the chorus ended, Patrick stepped to the very edge of the stage...right in front of Pete. He was lost in the music, face contorted as the emotions of song poured through him...as he re-lived all those moments of being unloved over and over with each note.

 

Pete gazed up at his Patrick, pulling back his hoodie, reaching out with his heart, using their spiritual connection to scream at Patrick,  _ I’m right here...and I am yours! _

 

Patrick was fully immersed in the wailing guitar riff but it was as if he could hear Pete’s mental calls because midway through the solo, he opened his eyes and looked directly at Pete. 

 

Their gazes were locked and Pete was instantly filled with wonder, with hope, with the joyous anticipation that this is the moment they will finally acknowledge their true feelings and come together at last. But as Patrick realized he was looking into the face of Pete Wentz, a terrible  _ SKKKRRRRRTTTTT  _ filled the venue as the blonde’s hands grappled with the guitar. The distorted feedback from the instrument was monstrous. The band continued to play but all eyes were on Patrick, who stood frozen, void of any color in his face, and visibly shaking as he stared with bulging eyes at a face in the front row.

 

Adam walked over to Patrick’s side, placing a hand low on the small of his back, hoping to snap him from his terror. The singer followed the path of Patrick’s stare and saw what had caused the panic attack. Adam looked at Pete and nodded his head in subtle acknowledgment. Patrick could feel the comforting press of Adam’s hand and pulled himself back to reality. The song continued to play, and Adam began to sing the ending chorus, but Patrick couldn’t finish playing the outro riff. He ran off stage, head down, terrified and humiliated. 

 

Back on stage,  _ Sleepwalker _ came to an end. Though Adam was a professional and a consummate showman with a firm belief in  _ the show must go on _ , he needed to take a moment to make sure Patrick was okay. As the lights dimmed in the beats before the next song, he quickly advised Tommy and the stage director to go into their rehearsed solo and adlib section. Normally, that was reserved for later in the show in order to allow Adam some time for a quick costume change but they would have to improvise an alternative or skip the costume change altogether. 

 

Before Adam headed back to the green room, where he assumed Patrick to be, he made a quick dash to have a word with Felix, the head of security, at the side stage entrance. If that was in fact Pete Wentz standing front and center for Patrick’s spectacular panic attack, then he knew the Emo King would be doing anything possible to get his way backstage to find his friend. 

 

It was no surprise when Adam reached Felix, he saw Pete was already there, doing his best to fight his way backstage. 

 

“Hey, Felix. It’s cool.” Adam said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the very agitated head of security. “Pete Wentz, I presume? Felix, go ahead and do your check, then give him a full access pass. Escort him to the lounge when you’re done.” Felix nodded and Adam turned to quickly acknowledge Pete. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Pete. I’ll let Patrick know you’ll be joining him shortly. I have a show to finish but this will give you some time to chat before I join you two.” Adam smiled and took off, presumably to see Patrick in the lounge.

 

Pete was stunned into complete silence. He was not expecting to be accomodated to readily.

 

After a quick pat down and a wave of a metal detector, he was given an all access lanyard and escorted down a short corridor to the back room. Felix opened the door for Pete, the large security guard eyeing him suspiciously. Pete supposed he deserved much worse for putting on such a huge display with him, trying to get backstage. Pete smiled back graciously, the fire from earlier extinguished and now filled with anxiety knowing that he was about to come face to face with someone he hadn’t seen in forever. 

 

Pete held his breath and stepped into the lounge, door closing behind him. He was surrounded by silence, the sounds of the cheering crowd and the performance on stage quieted behind walls layered with professional soundproofing. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as his pulse racing as his breathing intensified. 

 

Patrick was sitting at the far end of one of the couches in the room, feet tucked up under himself and clutching a pillow to his chest. He was staring at Pete, looking so small and fragile...and afraid. 

 

“Hey, Trick.”

 

Patrick just stared.

 

Pete stared back. 

 

Then Patrick clutched the pillow even tighter to his chest, body curling up even more, as he broke down crying.

  
  
  


**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos are lovely but comments are what keeps the writer energized. So don't be stingy with your affections!
> 
> Also, pass by The Laudanum Cafe anytime for stimulating conversation and free (virtual) drinks! You can find me on Tumblr at [LaudanumCafe](http://laudanumcafe.tumblr.com)


	3. Underneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Pete was all soft smiles and hopeful glances...Patrick’s face was hellfire and fury. “What the fuck are you doing here, Pete?”_
> 
> **
> 
> Pete and Patrick come face to face for the first time since The Hiatus started and things don't go quite as smoothly as Pete had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with another installment of a fic gifted to my stunning wifey, [Snitches!!](https://sn1tchesandtalkers.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **
> 
> The title of this chapter is taken from the Adam Lambert song of the same name, _Underneath, _from his second album entitled__ **Trespassing**. The lyrics for this song were the main inspiration for the plot of this chapter and I feel they should be shared with you all. 
> 
> (You can also check out a lyric video for this song [here](https://youtu.be/L518syGLRgs))  
>    
> Strip away the flesh and bone  
> Look beyond the lies you've known  
> Everybody wants to talk about a freak  
> No one wants to dig that deep  
> Let me take you underneath  
> Baby, better watch your step  
> Never mind what's on the left  
> You're gonna see things you might not wanna see  
> It's still not that easy for me underneath  
> A red river of screams  
> Underneath  
> Tears in my eyes  
> Underneath  
> Stars in my black and blue sky  
> Underneath  
> Under my skin  
> Underneath the depths of my sin  
> Look at me  
> Now do you see?  
> Welcome to my world of truth  
> I don't wanna hide any part of me from you  
> I'm standing here with no apologies  
> Such a beautiful release  
> You inside of me  
> A red river of screams  
> Underneath  
> Tears in my eyes  
> Underneath  
> Stars in my black and blue sky  
> And underneath  
> Under my skin  
> Underneath the depths of my sin  
> Look at me  
> Now do you see?  
> Underneath, underneath, underneath,  
> Underneath, underneath, yeah  
> Welcome to my world of truth  
> A red river of screams  
> Underneath  
> Tears in my eyes  
> Underneath  
> Stars in my black and blue sky  
> And underneath  
> Under my skin  
> Underneath the depths of my sin  
> Look at me  
> Now do you see?  
> Underneath, underneath, underneath  
> Look at me  
> Do you see?  
> Yeah yeah yeah yeah!  
> Look at me  
> Do you see?  
> Welcome to my world of truth  
> I don't wanna hide any part of me from you

_ “Hey, Trick.” _

 

_ Patrick just stared. _

 

_ Pete stared back.  _

 

_ Then Patrick clutched the pillow even tighter to his chest, body curling up even more, as he broke down crying. _

  
  


**

  
  


Pete wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally came face to face with Patrick for the first time since the hiatus started, though several options and possibilities came to mind. Perhaps Pete would be met with an unbridled and furious rage from Patrick...or maybe his estranged best friend would smile and they would end up having a real good catch up...or perhaps the dreaded indifference would have appeared with Patrick only sparing him a few brief moments to chit chat out of some sort of obligation for propriety’s sake, before dismissing Pete with a hollow, “It was so great seeing you again, you look great, we should meet up and get coffee or something after the tour ends”. Pete played several different scenarios over in his mind, trying his best to prepare himself for the unknown. He was prepared for a fight, hoping for a blissful reunion, and dreading being dismissed without much thought. 

 

He really, honest to the gods, did not for one moment expect Patrick to dissolve into a mess of anguish and tears. 

 

Pete watched, frozen in place in a helpless horror, as his best friend/bandmate/soulmate held onto a fucking beaded turquoise throw pillow and cry like he was just told his mother was dead. Patrick was doubled over, forehead pressed against the armrest of the couch, eyes squeezed shut, and shaking to hell with hysterical, open mouthed crying. Ugly crying. The type of crying reserved for late nights in empty houses where you can purge the secret depths of the sordid parts of your soul in the safety of solitude. 

 

Pete was intimately familiar with this type of cathartic release. He was used to having a knock down, drag out, spiritual purge at least once a month but to witness someone else get lost in the gripping throes of unquenchable sadness was a completely different experience. 

 

It was a bit fucking scary.

 

Patrick was always an overly emotional and highly sensitive guy even though Pete was the one crowned with the title of Ultimate Grand Supreme in the pageant of Overly Emotional and Highly Sensitive. However, Pete was only bestowed this status because he never took issue with letting everything all hang out for the world to dissect and analyze, while Patrick preferred to keep all of his soft parts well hidden from the world. Whether it be with layers and layers of clothing or with a deadpan expression even in the face of the harshest insults, Patrick would never give himself away like Pete always could. 

 

Pete could remember only a handful of times where Patrick bared himself and cried openly to him; the first time he smoked up and got way too high and freaked out because he kept hearing chainsaws and smelling the color red, when his childhood dog died back in 2002, when he visited Pete after the almost tragic overdose, when that Bitch Troll From Hell (aka: She Who Shall Not Be Named) cheated on him and he experienced his first breakup, when he received his first taste of internet hate when the Fatrick comments started…

 

Even though those were all extremely emotional times for Patrick, Pete had never,  _ EVER _ , seen him this completely lost in his pain. 

 

Pete tried to make his limbs work, but seeing Patrick in this state seemed to have rendered his body completely useless. It took a moment, but Pete was able to get his brain booted up enough to speak. “Trick? Dude, are you...Trick?  _ Trick??” _

 

Patrick stilled for just a moment when he heard Pete’s voice but instead of being pulled out of his crying spell, he just shook his head and pressed his face back into the pillow. “No. No no no  _ noooo _ …”

 

It took a few more seconds but Pete was finally able to get a hold of his body, though he was hesitant to move any closer to his hysterical friend. Pete really had no everloving clue what the fuck to do. Should he leave? Should he try and comfort his friend? Both seemed like the wrong thing to do and he was scared. 

 

Fuck. He made it this far...may as well go all in. 

 

Pete closed the distance from where he stood by the door, approaching Patrick on the couch and hovering hesitantly for a moment. Patrick was still curled up, hiding from the world behind the shield of a cotton polyester blend pillow looking impossibly tiny and fragile. Pete crouched down so he could be at face level and put his hand on the arm rest near Patrick’s face, hoping to alert his friend to his presence without startling him or causing him to sink further into the panic that he was clutched in. 

 

“Tricky? Please?”

 

Patrick’s crying subdued a little bit, just enough where the near screaming wails ceased for the time being. His face was still hidden from view and his breathing heavy and erratic, but he was calmer to a certain extent. Pete was washed with a temporary sense of relief. “Trick. Come on, dude. Hey.”

 

Pete could tell Patrick was trying to steady his breathing. His back was slightly arched, rising and falling with each measured and controlled inhalation and exhalation. Pete watched silently for a minute, allowing Patrick to calm down and focus. He then waited patiently for a few more minutes, hoping Patrick would lift his head and meet his gaze. He was quieter now, the wailing from before replaced with the occasional whimper, but Patrick resolutely kept his face hidden from view. 

 

Feeling that it may be safe to do, Pete reached out and lightly placed his hand on Patrick’s back. He didn’t move it, just rested it as delicately as possible to try and rouse Patrick’s attention. “You’re okay, Trick. You’re good.”

 

Pete could feel Patrick’s entire body convulse in a shiver as his breath stuttered. “Pete?” Patrick’s voice was so small and the muffling from the fabric against his face muted it even more.  

 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Pete started to rub up and down along Patrick’s back, pulling his friend out of his mind and drawing him back into the present. 

 

They sat in silence for a while, Pete petting and Patrick breathing wetly. Pete’s legs were starting to hurt from crouching beside Patrick for so long but he was afraid moving might set Patrick off again. He shifted a bit and moved one knee beneath him to take some of the pressure off his straining muscles but the rustling sound against the industrial carpet seemed to grab Patrick’s attention. 

 

The blonde man shifted, lifting his head and moving to sit upright. Wiping his face, he finally looked at Pete. 

 

Pete was all soft smiles and hopeful glances...Patrick’s face was hellfire and fury. “What the fuck are you doing here, Pete?”

 

The small smile on Pete’s face was instantly wiped away and replaced with a wrinkled brow of confusion. Patrick was glaring down at him, eyes bloodshot and swollen, face streaked with tears and blotchy. His left cheek was bright red along the side from being pressed against the armrest for so long. Pete pushed himself up off of the floor to stand, instinctively going into fight mode and needing to try and get the upper hand of the situation. 

 

Patrick was ready for this and jumped to his feet as well. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side, head slightly lowered like a bull ready to charge. “What the  _ FUCK  _ do you think you’re doing here? You just had to come and fucking see, didn’t you? Had to see the fucking  _ freak  _ in person and in the flesh, huh? Well, here I am! Take a good fucking look! I bet you’re just fucking  _ thrilled,  _ aren’t you? Look at me! Go ahead and fucking...you just couldn’t resist!”

 

Patrick had been inching into Pete’s personal space as he screamed and the older man’s previous instinct to fight melted into confusion. Patrick’s words made no sense.

 

“Freak? What the fuck are you talking about, Trick?”

 

“I am  _ NOT  _ your fucking ‘ _ Trick _ ’, goddamnit!” Patrick stepped forward and placed both hands on Pete’s chest, shoving as hard as he could. Pete stumbled backwards, almost falling over completely when his feet tangled with the displaced throw pillows on the floor. He regained his composure quickly.

 

“Patrick, please! Calm the fuck down and just talk to me!”

 

“Talk to you? You want to fucking  _ talk? _ ” Patrick’s anger was winding up and he was posed to strike. “There’s never been such a thing as fucking  _ talking  _ with you, Pete! Tell me the fucking truth! You’re here to see a freakshow, aren’t you?! You want to tear me down even more, huh? It’s so fucking like you to try and catch me off guard so you always have the upper hand! So fucking  _ obsessed  _ with seeing everyone at their lowest, aren’t you?! Well, here I am! Are you fucking happy, now?! Thrilled to see the fucking sideshow attraction?!”

 

Pete was wide eyed and fully stunned. Patrick’s words made absolutely no sense at all. What was he even talking about? “Trick...Patrick...I’m so sorry, but...honestly, I really don’t know what you’re going on about. I just came to see you, that’s all! I swear, I have zero bad intentions! I just...I really wanted to see you again. I’ve been missing you to death. Couldn’t you tell by all my texts?”

 

Patrick looked positively feral, his shoulders drawn high, forehead lowered in that fucking Taurean charging stance, eyes wild, and breathing labored. 

 

Something in Pete’s mind clicked and he tried his very best to soften his stance. “Patrick? Look, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming, okay? I wasn’t trying to be a dick or anything. Come on, give me some fucking credit here. I missed you and wanted to see you again. That’s all.”

 

Patrick was taken back a bit by that. “Fuck you with that. You’re full of shit and you know it. I know you, Pete. I know how you just couldn’t resist digging your nails into me while my skin was peeled away and everything I am was left exposed. You just  _ had  _ to get a taste of me at my most vulnerable, didn’t you? You’re a sick, twisted monster.” 

 

Pete knew he deserved that. As painful as it was to hear that accusation, it was true that he had been that person in the past. But the hiatus forced things to change in all of their lives and the biggest difference was in Pete himself. He was finally actively self aware and always trying his hardest to do his best. Patrick hasn’t had a change to meet the new and improved Pete, but he wasn’t giving him a fair chance. 

 

“That’s not fucking true, Trick...not anymore...and I’m pretty sure you know it. I’m not the same person now that I was in fucking 2008, dude. You gotta just chill out and give me a chance.  _ Please.  _ Stop acting like this.”

 

Patrick looked ready to strike again and Pete was ready this time. It had been quite a while since he felt the wrath of his best friend’s temper and even longer since they traded punches, but it looked like Patrick was set on fighting. 

 

That’s fine, Pete could handle that. 

 

_ You want to antagonize me? _

_ Antagonize me, motherfucker. _

_ Get in the ring, motherfucker.  _

 

Pete was taking in a breath to start firing verbal shots of his own when Patrick’s entire demeanor shifted again and the younger man turned away to sit on the couch, face buried in his hands, and hysterically crying all over again. 

 

_ Seriously, what the fuck? There’s some shit going on in this kid’s head that has nothing to do with me. This can’t all be because of me. It can’t... _

 

Pete took in a deep breath, feeling confused and thoroughly shaken. Fighting with Patrick was something he could handle, but this constant back and forth of extreme emotion? Pete had no clue how to deal with this. What are you supposed to do when the one person who’s always been the most stable individual you’ve ever known is a hysterical mess? The things that would comfort Pete may not be the same as what Patrick would crave. Pete has always been tactile embraces and soothing words but Pete isn’t really sure what Patrick is.

 

Not anymore, at least.

 

Not knowing any better, Pete goes over to the couch and sits down next to Patrick, rubbing his back and and trying to make soft, soothing sounds. “Hey, Trick. It’s okay. It’s...It’ll be okay. Look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I just...Fuck, I’m such a fucking idiot. I read too much into the texts you sent me and I thought coming out to surprise you would be a good idea. I should have known better. I should have known you don’t want anything to do with me anymore and I am so fucking sorry.”

 

Pete was near tears himself at this point. Not only was he consumed by guilt and regret, but now he was feeling the deep, gut clenching sickness of humiliation. 

 

They stay like this for a while, at some sort of awkward impasse. Time seemingly standing still to encapsulate them in this horrible nightmare for an eternity. To Pete, this moment reminded him of being like a fly in amber...forever frozen.

 

Enough time had passed that Pete wonders if Adam’s set will be over soon and decides he needs to get out of there before things get too hectic backstage. Patrick’s still a complete mess and everyone's going to know that some shit went down between them while they were onstage. Pete is fairly certain that Patrick has confided in Adam about some of their personal moments and he really doesn’t need to be teamed up against right now. Pete feels bad enough as it is. He already knows everything he’s done wrong and really doesn’t need to be lectured by some stranger that’s going to feel the need to defend Patrick’s honor or some shit when he only knows one side of the fucking story. 

 

Fuck, if taking all of the blame and being berated would make things better, Pete would gladly turn his back to the sun to shield Patrick from the flames. He’d stand in front of a firing squad if he had to. 

 

Pete’s mind starts wandering, thinking of the irony of it all. That the one person he’d take a bullet for is the one who has that fucking glock raised, cocked and ready, and pointed right at his head.

 

Anger is starting to build in Pete’s chest, overtaking some of the deep sadness from before. Anger is good. It’s an emotion he can work with...shape into something useful...control. He can mold anger into words that are perfectly crafted to break hearts and sever ties. This Hiatus was supposed to be a temporary situation but right now, Pete thinks he may be ready to help Patrick completely burn these bridges down. He came here with the very best of intentions and even if the delivery wasn’t the best, that should account for _something_. It always did in the past. But if this is how Patrick _really_ feels about Pete, if his supposed “best friend” thinks he’s a monster...well then it’s time to strike a match and burn this shit down to the ground. 

 

“So, I’m a fucking monster, huh?”

 

Pete’s voice was cold. It was the sound of metal being kissed by liquid nitrogen. It was steady and slow, low in volume, calm to the untrained ear. Patrick knew the danger that lived in that tone. He sucked in a breath and held it as Pete continued to speak. 

 

“I’m a monster, huh? I just came out to fuck up your life and watch a freakshow, huh?”

 

Patrick lifted his face up from the hidden sanctuary of his hands and turned to face Pete. He let out his breath slowly, trying to keep his movements small and unobtrusive. He did say that to Pete, didn’t he? He did kind of explode and hurled insults and ignominies like poison tipped javelins. 

 

It was too late to back down now. Patrick had spent the majority of his young adult life bowing down before the magnanimity of Pete Wentz and he wasn’t about to go back to those old ways. 

 

Willing his tears to stop flowing, Patrick tightened his spine and raised his eyes to meet Pete’s. “Yeah. You heard me. If you think for a moment you’re intentions were anything but destructive then you are fooling yourself.” Patrick paused for a moment and considered his words before speaking again. “So, not only are you a monster, but you’re mentally defective, too.”

 

Pete shuttered and recoiled, flailing almost off the couch as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. That was a perfectly calculated strike if Pete ever experienced one. The urge to attack was once again tempered down by the distraction of confusion.

 

Patrick saw Pete’s defenses weaken for a moment and took another opportunity to strike. 

 

This time, his blows were literal. 

 

It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly. Patrick took two steps forward, smiled a smile that was dripping with luminous brilliance (and in that split second it reminded Pete of a young 17 year old Golden Boy drunk off the thrill of their first sold out club show and feeling invincible). That soft smile faded quickly into a expression chiseled by rage as Patrick pulled back his right fist to deliver a perfectly executed punch to Pete’s solar plexus. 

 

All of the air left Pete’s lungs and he crumbled to the floor, stunned and effectively incapacitated. Clutching his gut and gasping to get a proper breath, Pete looked up at the box bleach blonde. (And even in his impaired state, Pete couldn’t help but think how fucking beautiful he looked, even with that shitty lemon yellow dye job). “What the  _ fuck  _ was that for?”

 

Patrick’s rage switched off again with such alarming force that left Pete as breathless as the unexpected punch to the gut. Tears filled the younger man’s eyes again and he started to slip into another freak out. 

 

Seriously, Pete couldn’t take any more of this rapid fire back and forth of rage and inconsolable sadness.

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t be this. I can’t. I can’t. I  _ can’t _ .” Patrick muttered to himself as he started pacing the room. 

 

Pete was getting to his feet, watching Patrick carefully from across the room, and realizing that whatever the fuck was going on with the kid was far more complicated than anything they’ve experienced in all their years of friendship. Pete decided not to try and interfere this time. Patrick was clearly starting to lose it right now, a panic attack or dissociating or something, as he paced the room, crying and frantically muttering to himself.

 

Pete considered just slipping out of the room and making his way back to the airport...sneaking off like a one night stand in the middle of the night...when the door to the dressing room opened and Adam walked in.

 

Pete was stuck, there was no way out of this fucking mess now. 

 

Adam took one look at Patrick, who was pacing, muttering, pulling at his hair and scratching his arms, and stepped back outside to tell Felix to make sure no one came into the room. He spared Pete a quick glance with a surprisingly soft and almost apologetic expression as walked over to a mini fridge located by the craft table. He grabbed a tray of ice and went over to Patrick. 

 

Putting down the tray, Adam reached out and gently took Patrick by the shoulders to stop his pacing and force his attention to the taller man’s face. “Hey, hey, Patrick. Come on. Give me your hands.” Adam trailed his hands down from Patrick’s shoulders to his hands, turning them so they were faced palms up. “Here, focus on this.” Reaching down to the tray of ice, Adam grabbed a couple of cubes and placed them in Patrick’s trembling hands, closing his fingers around them.

 

Patrick hissed but stilled his frantic movements. “Fuck. Cold.”

 

“Good, good. Now, tell me what the texture is.”

 

Patrick’s fingers rubbed the ice cubes in his hands. “Fucking...smooth. It’s smooth.”

 

“Perfect. Now, what color do you feel?”

 

Patrick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Sharp silver. Spherical with points. Like...it’s like the intro to Tiffany Blews.”

 

“You’re doing well, Patrick.” Adam took the ice cubes away and used his shirt to wipe off the excess moisture from Patrick’s hands. “Now, open your eyes and tell me what your three favorite songs are.”

 

Patrick blinked and considered the question. “Well...that’s hard to say. It really depends on the mood, you know? Like, there are so many ways I could answer that.”

 

Adam smiled and brought Patrick in for a hug. “That’s perfect. Right answer. Welcome back, Patrick. You had another little dip for a second.”

 

Pete watched as Patrick,  _ his Patrick,  _ wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist, and pressed the side of his face into Adam’s chest. “I did. I’m sorry. Thanks for helping. I’m better now, I promise.”

 

Pete’s gut was twisting in a nauseating mix of jealousy and shame. This fucking tall guy knew exactly how to take care of Patrick and all he seemed to do was trigger an upset. 

 

Patrick didn’t need him anymore. In fact, he was the reason his favorite person in the entire world was suffering. Fuck this. Without Patrick, he doesn’t exist. He’s better off dead. 

 

Adam looked over to Pete as he stood holding his best friend close, rocking from side to side. “Hey Pete. Are you okay? You look a little shook up. Do you need anything?”

 

_ Yeah. A bottle full of little blue pills and a magnum of Jack Daniel’s. _

 

“No, I’m fine. I’m...I didn’t...I wasn’t...I swear I didn’t do anything to him.”

 

Adam pulled back from Patrick and lead the younger man to sit on the couch before heading over to the mini fridge to get some bottles of water. “I believe you. He’s been a bit unsheathed in his fragility lately.” He uncapped one of the water bottles and handed it over to Patrick, taking both the smaller man’s hands to wrap around the bottle. “Small sips, Patrick. Okay?”

 

Patrick nodded and obediently took a few small swallows of water. 

 

Adam smiled and walked over to Pete, handing him the other bottle. “I take it he was surprised to see you. I’m glad you’re here, though.”

 

Pete took a big gulp of water, held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, and looked at Adam with surprise. “You fucking serious?”

 

What the fuck was this tall guy getting at? It was obvious to Pete that he and Patrick were a thing or...something. He thought he was going to get another punch from the overprotective new boyfriend...not a fucking warm welcome.

 

Adam nodded. “Quite serious.” He tipped his head towards Patrick. “He’s been wanting to reconnect with you for a while but he’s been apprehensive about taking the next step.”

 

Pete felt naked. This acquaintance seemed to know way more than Pete did and he wasn’t comfortable being in the dark. “I take it he...he’s...I mean, I guess Trick has, um, confided in you a bit?”

 

“You could say that. But he’s never said anything to me that would make me think badly about you and besides, it’s never been in my personality to take sides or judge someone based on one person’s account. We all experience and perceive things differently. What affects you in one way may not affect me in the same. What I have concluded is you’re someone of intense importance in Patrick’s life. Therefore, I’m looking forward to get to know you.”

 

Pete glanced over to where Patrick was sitting on the couch, watching them with intense ocean storm eyes as they spoke, and taking periodic sips from his water bottle. “I’m...thanks. For not kicking my ass on sight. And for taking care of Tricky. I honestly didn’t know you guys were together until I saw the concert but I totally respect that and I’d never cross any boundaries like that. I just...he’s my best friend and...I mean, it’s complicated for me but...I guess that doesn’t matter anymore...so, just. Thanks for not beating my ass.”

 

“We’re not together.”

 

Pete turned around to look at Patrick, confused by his statement. “What? But what I saw...that wasn’t…”

 

Adam put his hand on Pete’s shoulder and addressed him. “It’s really not that complicated. But I think that’s part of what you and Patrick need to catch up on. Look, we have three days off before the next show and we’re going to be staying in a hotel by Pike Place Market until we drive down to Portland. Why don’t we meet up tomorrow? I think it would be best to continue this conversation after Patrick gets some rest. He’s going to need to take his medication soon and he’ll be out cold in a couple of hours, anyway. Where are you staying at? We can drop you off at your hotel if you’d like.”

 

Pete’s brow was furrowed, making that dumb, confused face. “What...what the fuck do you mean?” He turned his attention to Patrick. “What medication? You don’t take anything. What is he talking about?”

 

Patrick was looking a bit angry but this time it was directed towards Adam. “Was it really fucking necessary to say anything about that, Adam?”

 

Pete was confused, looking between the two and feeling so lost. Adam shook his head and walked over to a backpack that was on top of the counter where the mini fridge was located. Patrick watched with a scowl on his face as Adam silently unzipped the front pocket and pulled out a little orange pill bottle. He uncapped it and shook out two little white pills, handing them over to Patrick with a stern look. Patrick’s anger deflated as he took the pills and placed them in his mouth, swallowing them down with a gulp of water. 

 

“He doesn’t take them on the regular. It’s just on an as needed basis.” Adam said and he went to replace the pill bottle in the backpack and go back to stand with Pete. 

 

“What is he taking?” Pete asked, still watching Patrick’s face. He felt weird talking about Patrick with someone he’d only spoken to twice, but it seemed he was going to get more help from this person than Patrick would ever allow. 

 

“Klonopin. He usually only needs one pill but tonight’s episode seemed particularly bad so he’s doubling up. He’s pretty sensitive to the pills so he’s gonna be pretty subdued in an hour. He needs to rest tonight.” Adam looked at Patrick with a soft and caring expression, making Pete feel sick to his stomach. “So, where did you say you’re staying?”

 

Pete swallowed thickly, eyes never leaving Patrick’s face. His friend was avoiding eye contact now, staring at the floor and picking at the label on the water bottle. “I didn’t. I actually don’t have a hotel yet. I came here straight from the airport.” Pete turned his attention back to Adam. “This whole trip was kinda a surprise to me, too. I just booked the first flight I found when I decided I wanted to come see Trick and I figured I’d get a hotel afterwards.”

 

Adam frowned. “Well, that will not do. I’d like you to come back with us, in that case.” Pete was about to start protesting but Adam held up his hand. “No, I won’t hear it. We’re booked in a suite so there’s more than enough space for 5 people, let alone just the two of us. I actually think this would be the best for all of us. I’d like to have a chance to get to know you a little, just one on one. Patrick will probably fall asleep in the car before we’re halfway there anyways. What do you say? And by the way, no isn’t an option.”

 

Pete looked over towards Patrick to gauge his reaction. He was looking back at Pete placidly, which seemed answer enough. If Patrick  _ really  _ had any protestations about him sharing their hotel room, he would have  _ definitely  _ let everyone know.

 

“Yeah, okay. I guess that’s the plan then.”

  
  


**

  
  


It was almost another hour before Adam, Patrick, and Pete were finally able to leave the venue to head out to their hotel. Patrick was leaning his head against the rear driver’s side window and drifting off quickly. Adam sat in the middle seat, softly petting the younger man’s lap as he chatted quietly with Pete, who was sitting next in the rear passenger seat. 

 

The conversation was light and mostly vapid; just killing time with vague niceties and general observations. Pete was grateful for Adam doing his best to keep things light and was doing a pretty good job at single handedly keeping things from being too awkward for Pete. The older man was mostly quiet; nodding along politely and offering only the most basic of replies. It wasn’t that Pete was being cold or difficult...he was just a bit overwhelmed and still unsure how either of these guys were going to react to him. Adam made it pretty clear that he held no judgements or reservations towards him but he still had his walls up. After the way Patrick reacted, it was difficult not to.

 

Adam graciously chattered on, keeping Pete from sinking too far into his head, but a few minutes before they reached their destination Patrick began to stir. 

 

“Pete? Where’s Pete?” Patrick lifted his head and turned towards Adam with bleery, barely opened eyes. The pills were hitting him hard. 

 

Adam put his left arm around Patrick’s shoulders, steadying him as he seemingly tried to pull himself into Adam’s lap. “Shh, he’s right next to me. Pete’s right here.”

 

Patrick threw out a hand towards where Adam said Pete was sitting and Pete took the singer’s hand, holding it between both of his. “I’m right here Trick. We’re going to the hotel, remember?”

 

Patrick grunted and buried his face in Adam’s shoulder while he draped over the other singer to keep holding hands with Pete. “Don’t leave me again, Peter. Please don’t leave me.”

 

Pete was at a loss for words and feeling his throat close up as tears started to pool up in his eyes. Adam was watching Pete with a gentle and careful expression but nudged him with his shoulder in a silent prompt to make some sort of acknowledgement to Patrick. Pete was afraid to open his mouth. Afraid that any words would be lost in a deluge of ugly sobbing and begging for forgiveness. Pete kept rubbing Patrick’s soft hand between his, taking in deep measured breaths to fight back the tears. 

 

Adam could tell Pete wasn’t in the best condition right now and tried to offer Patrick the reassurance he needed. “No, Pete’s not going anywhere, okay? He’s right here holding your hand. That’s Pete. Just go to sleep, Trick. We’re almost at the hotel.”

 

Patrick was barely conscious but Pete felt his grip tighten as Adam spoke. “Do not call me that, Adam. That’s only for Pete.” The singer managed to slur out before lying his head back on Adam’s shoulder and drifting off.

  
  


**

 


	4. Chokehold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the part where I start making idle chit chat again to lighten the mood and try to ignore any awkwardness between us but I think we’ve had our fill of that for tonight. Besides, I think we both know that was for Patrick’s benefit, anyways.”
> 
> Pete smiled, really smiled, at that. He appreciated Adam’s no bullshit approach. “Yeah, I’m definitely not a fan of dancing around shit.” Adam nodded at that and looked back at Pete. Taking in a breath, Pete decided to say what was really on his mind. 
> 
> “So, what the fuck have you been getting into with Patrick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> And for those of you just joining us, thank you for stopping by to read this little tale of mine. 
> 
> Where to begin…
> 
> Well, as most of you know, this was supposed to be the final chapter. However, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, that is no longer the case. It seems these boys had a little bit more story to tell and since I am but a vessel used to convey their tale, who am I to oppose? What was initially intended to be a very straightforward, slutty birthday gift for my wife, [Snitches](https://sn1tchesandtalkers.tumblr.com/), has transformed into an enormously emotional opus that required much more of my (Pete’s) heart than was originally planned. 
> 
> Sometimes some of the most wonderful things in life happen unexpectedly. 
> 
> I never expected the feedback for this fic to be so positive. I never expected this story to be so well received. I never expected my beloved Adam Lambert to be embraced so wholeheartedly. 
> 
> Writing a non-bandom character or an original character into a fic as one of the main players is usually the kiss of death, so I was expecting this to be left unread for the most part (with the exception of my beautiful wifey Snitches and the rest of my Pack mates, of course). 
> 
> Thank you for proving me wrong. 
> 
> So, I bring you the next chapter of what looks to now be a six part story (but please don’t hold me to that...the boys have pretty much taken full control of this fic so I’m not 100% sure anymore).
> 
> The title of this chapter is taken from the Adam Lambert song _Chokehold_ off of his album **Trespassing**. Since the lyrics inspire the chapters, I feel it is only fair to share them with you below. 
> 
> (You can also check out a lyric video for this song [here](https://youtu.be/AZ42PksFs60))
> 
> **
> 
> Staring at the ceiling in the dark  
> Sheets are in a knot  
> My heart is like rock, eh  
> Pictures flashing by inside my head  
> I'm hanging by a thread  
> But I'd do it all again, eh  
> I keep running away, running away, running away from you  
> But I can't stand breaking the chains  
> Breaking the chains, breaking the chains  
> It's too good  
> 'Cause I know the second you go  
> Want cha to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me  
> And you know I want your chokehold  
> Want cha to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Bring it on back to me  
> All without your touch I suffocate  
> I could asphyxiate, but I kind of like the pain, eh  
> Baby, I can smell you on my clothes  
> I try to stay composed  
> But I feel the fever grow, grow oh oh  
> I keep running away, running away, running away from you  
> But I can't stand breaking the chains  
> Breaking the chains, breaking the chains  
> It's too good  
> 'Cause I know the second you go  
> Want cha to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me  
> And you know I want your chokehold  
> Want cha to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Oh, oh, oh, hey, hey  
> Oh, oh, oh, hey, hey  
> Baby, gonna bring it back to me  
> 'Cause I know the second you go  
> Want you to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me  
> And you know I want your chokehold  
> Want cha to bring it on back, bring it on back  
> Bring it on back to me, yeah yeah  
> Bring it on back to me  
> Bring it on back to me

They were all silent as they made their way up to the hotel suite. Pete was so utterly and completely exhausted; his brain was fried to a crisp and his body felt overwrought. Just making the short trip from the car and up the elevator to their hotel room was almost asking too much of Pete’s faculties. 

 

Thankfully for Pete, Adam had ceased making idle chatter, seeing as he had his hands full in trying to help a very medicated Patrick out of the car and into the hotel lobby. Patrick wasn’t offering much assistance and kept resisting Adam’s efforts. He was fighting off the taller man’s attempts of being held upright and walking, whining his protestations like a sleep weary five year old. Lip pout and foot stomp, included. 

 

Patrick always acted like a spoiled little brat when he was sleepy. 

 

Adam didn’t ask Pete for any help and Pete wasn’t about to offer any. His mind was enough to handle right now. 

 

Once the journey was over and they were all safely inside the solitude of a rather nice hotel suite, Adam guided Patrick into the bedroom and deposited him onto the bed nearest the bathroom. Pete followed them in, not really thinking if he was supposed to wait for them in the little living area or not. He was on autopilot and his natural response was to follow behind wherever Patrick went. 

 

Patrick was flopped on his back on the bed and trying to pull his legs up to curl into the fetal position around a pillow that he had pulled down into his arms. Adam, for the first time that Pete had seen, was wearing an annoyed expression as he tried to pull Patrick’s legs down so he could remove his shoes. Pete had to grin...he was kind of selfishly pleased to see that that little fucker was really giving Adam a struggle. 

 

“Patrick,” Adam pleaded with a note of sterness. “Come on, I need you to work with me here. You can’t go to sleep in your stage clothes and you need to take a quick shower. I can’t let you sleep just yet.” Adam was patting at Patrick’s leg to try and rouse him into cooperating. “Up, up. You gotta get undressed and in the shower, darling.”

 

Adam looked over at Pete, who was watching them with quiet apprehension. Patrick moaned unhappily and pulled away again, making Adam’s perfect mask of unflinching patience start to crack even further. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I really didn’t think this part through earlier,” he muttered to himself. “Patrick,  _ seriously _ I need you to get up, darling. Come on.  _ Up up up _ .”

 

Patrick made a displeased noise but obeyed; sitting up and blearily looking up at Adam. “Too tired. M’bath.”

 

Now that Patrick was upright, Adam took this opportunity to quickly remove his shoes and socks while shaking his head in reply to Patrick’s request. “No bath, darling. I can’t have you fall asleep in the water. You could get hurt again.”

 

Pete perked up at that. “Again? What...You mean he’s…”

 

The bassist couldn’t finish his question. Too many images of worst case scenarios popped into his mind. 

 

“Nothing serious and nothing on purpose, Pete. Don’t worry. There was one minor incident and it was just an accident, I promise.” Adam had now managed to get Patrick’s shoes off and was working to get him to stand up. “I’m going to help him shower now so don’t worry, he won’t be unattended. When we’re done, you can go ahead and jump in. Just come out to the living room when you’re done and we can chat a little.”   
  


Pete nodded and watched as they made their way into the bathroom and closed the door. Pete sank down onto the other bed and sat staring blankly at the floor. After a few moments, he could hear the sound of the water turning on and he grimaced at the thought of Patrick and Adam naked in the shower together. It was weird to imagine Patrick being so uninhibited and unguarded like that. The Patrick that Pete knew was fiercely independent and even when he was drunk off his ass and to the point of being completely incapacitated, he would always find a way to manage things  _ by himself.  _

 

From the way Patrick and Adam interacted, it seemed like these two had developed quite a close and intimate relationship.

 

_ We’re not together, my ass,  _ Pete thought.

 

That oh so familiar pang of jealousy was back with a renewed force and Pete was fucking fed up with it. He didn’t want to be here playing third wheel while his heart continued to shatter inside his chest. Adam seemed like a nice enough guy and he was thankful for what he was trying to do, but Pete knew a lost cause when he saw one. Giving up wasn’t typically a Pete Wentz trait...but he was thinking now may be the time to throw in the towel and call it quits. 

 

But Pete said he’d stick around. He did promise. For now, at least. Adam was expecting him to be here and even though he didn’t feel obligated to the man in any way, he owed it to Patrick. Patrick, who reached for  _ him  _ in the car...who asked him  _ not to leave him again.  _

 

Maybe Pete could write it off as Patrick being drugged and not knowing what the fuck he was talking about, but he knew that was a lie. Patrick asked for him and he was going to push through his own anguish and give it one more shot.

  
  


**

  
  


Pete was sitting on the far end of the couch when Adam appeared a little while later. It was a little disconcerting to see Adam dressed so casually. Pete didn’t know what he was expecting; perhaps he imagined that Adam would emerge in a cloud of purple smoke, perfectly backlit with laser lights, glam make up perfectly applied and donning a shimmering, sequined purple bathrobe like some weird Prince/Liberace hybrid. In all honesty, Pete was imagining that one skit from Chappelle’s Show called Charlie Murphy’s True Hollywood Stories where they did a re-enactment of the time Charlie Murphy and his friends met Prince. 

Yeah, something ridiculous like that. 

 

Instead, Adam slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door so carefully and so quietly behind him, wearing plaid fleece pajama pants and a hopelessly faded Def Leppard t-shirt ( _ Hysteria,  _ Pete observed with a smile...his favorite album...the kid had good taste in music). He smiled at Pete and headed over to sit with him on the couch. 

 

“Is Patrick asleep?” Pete asked, deciding it was his turn to break the ice and wanting to know how his friend was feeling. 

 

“Out like a light.” Adam said with a sigh. He was looking a little tense around the mouth, making Pete realize that all through the drama of the evening’s events, Adam was probably affected in some way by it all. 

 

“That’s good.” Pete said as he loosened his grip on the pillow he was holding in his lap. He looked down at the item and pushed it away, reminded of how Patrick was gripping so desperately to a pillow earlier and felt a bit sickened with the realization that he was unconsciously doing the same thing. 

 

None of this seemed to escape Adam’s fine tuned observations, though. Thankfully the younger man didn’t say anything about it. 

 

“This is the part where I start making idle chit chat again to lighten the mood and try to ignore any awkwardness between us but I think we’ve had our fill of that for tonight. Besides, I think we both know that was for Patrick’s benefit, anyways.”

 

Pete smiled, really smiled, at that. He appreciated Adam’s no bullshit approach. “Yeah, I’m definitely not a fan of dancing around shit.” Adam nodded at that and looked back at Pete. Taking in a breath, Pete decided to say what was really on his mind. 

 

“So, what the fuck have you been getting into with Patrick?”

 

Adam shifted, pulling his legs up so he could sit cross legged on the couch ( _Patrick always sits like that,_ Pete thought to himself). “Normally, I don’t kiss and tell,” Pete sucked in a breath with a hiss at those words...he couldn’t help it. “But there’s really not too much to tell at all.”

 

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Adam. In spite of what Patrick may have told you about me. I can clearly see you guys are... _ close. _ ”

 

“Patrick has never uttered a word against your intelligence, Pete. Quite the contrary, actually. He holds a deep and unwavering admiration of you. He’s just confused and hurt. It makes him lash out sometimes, you know?”

 

Pete snorted. “Yeah, I fucking know. I’ve lived with him for almost a decade. I’m pretty sure I know him a little fucking better than you seem to think.” Pete paused, trying to tamp down the anger that was starting to rise up again. “Look, I’m sorry for being so…” Pete waved his hand around, trying to explain with a weak hand gesture all of the encompassing emotions that were swirling inside of him. It was frustrating as hell, never being able to speak the words that seemed to flow with such ease when he was writing them down. 

 

“For being so overprotective? For feeling that pull of attraction that years of togetherness built and then being thrown into a pit of disarray and confusion when the fantasy you created in your heart didn’t come to light when you were finally reunited? For feeling the pain of being replaced? For putting your heart on the line and allowing yourself to express your vulnerability and was met with the bite of a predator instead of the embrace of a lover?”

 

Pete’s mouth dropped open. “Yes. That’s... _ Yes _ .” 

 

Well, holy shit.

 

“Pete, let me level with you. First off, as Patrick said himself, he and I are not together. But your observations about us being close are correct.” Pete was already bristing at Adam’s confirmation and his guard was starting to go back up. “ _ However,  _ and I’ll spare you the details…” Pete’s jaw clenched and his fists curled…”...we  _ have _ been connecting a lot recently. Now, before you get yourself all worked up over nothing, you need to know that Patrick has been trying to work past some of his own issues and insecurities with the sole purpose of reuniting with you in mind.”

 

Pete knew that Adam was doing his best to be diplomatic and mindful of Pete’s feelings, and while the facts were delivered with a little sprinkle of sugar to make the medicine go down, he could still taste the metallic tang of the truth resonating behind these words. “So, basically what you’re saying is you’ve been fucking him?”

 

Adam’s lack of a reply was confirmation enough. 

 

“Let me see if I understand this.” Pete closed his eyes and punched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to remain composed and doing his absolute best to hold himself back from throwing a fist into Adam’s perfect fucking face. “You and my Trick...you guys aren’t together. But, you guys are super close and you fuck on the regular. He’s comfortable with you enough that he allows himself to be molested onstage and paraded around like a piece of meat... _ but _ you guys aren’t a couple?”

 

“Pete, I think that’s a little…” Adam cut himself off, remembering who he was addressing here and deciding the need for diplomacy wasn’t really necessary. “Actually, I think that’s a fair summary of things. Though, I’m sure it’s nowhere near as vulgar as your imagination is surely leading you to conceptualize.”

 

“Oh, is that right? Why don’t you go ahead and elaborate so my imagination doesn’t start going wild. I’d really like to know what  _ exactly  _ your intentions with Patrick have been. He’s not the type to be intimate with anyone without his feelings being  _ one hundred and fifty _ percent involved. So, please excuse me if I have a hard time believing that what you guys have is anything but casual. At least for him. So, if he’s fallen for you and you’re just using him as some fucked up tour fling, then we’re going to have some serious problems...and I promise you, I fucking  _ swear  _ to you, that I will do everything in my ability to make sure that your life, both personally and professionally, are as rife with as many hardships and sufferings as I can manage to inflict. This isn’t a threat at all, Adam. It’s a promise that I will keep each day for the rest of my fucking life.”

 

Adam didn’t flinch at all after hearing Pete make his declarations. The singer was more than prepared to deal with the bassist’s infamous overprotective nature and was actually expecting a lot worse from him. Unfortunately, Adam’s unclockable expression was taken as some low key condescension by Pete. “You think I’m joking about this? I promise you, there is very little I wouldn’t do to ensure Trick is safe and happy. At any cost”

 

“No, don’t get me wrong. I believe you. It’s just…” Adam faltered, looking away and thinking for a moment. “Look, I respect you so I’m not about to sugarcoat anything. If I’m being completely honest, I could easily see myself with Patrick as something serious and long term. This “arrangement” we have right now, this is really his idea. He’s in mourning, Pete. He lost his band, his identity, himself...he lost  _ you.  _ Yes, I was the one who made all of the first moves, but he has always been quick to establish his boundaries.”

 

Pete looked confused. “Boundaries? What fucking boundaries? I saw you guys on stage. You all seemed one step away from a fucking live sex show.”

 

“I think that’s a bit exaggerated, come on.” Adam smiled, trying to lighten the mood a bit and seeing Pete was not receptive. “Okay, look....and again, I’m being brutally honest here...Patrick’s boundaries have never been physical. He’s been... _ very  _ open and free in that regard.” Adam wasn’t being a dick, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. Patrick in bed was fucking  _ magical.  _ “It’s the  _ emotional  _ boundaries he’s been so adamant about guarding. This is the thing with Patrick, he’s lonely and mourning the loss of you. He can’t give his heart to anyone because you still hold it. I’ll admit, it was a little disappointing for me, but my respect and friendship for him comes before anything else. It’s not my place to tell you everything, but he knows I’ll tell you enough. He loves you and that’s not something he’s willing to let go of. He’s kept everything bottled up for so long, Pete. This break has been doing him good...but he needs  _ you... _ and I think he’s finally healed enough inside where he may be able to handle that truth. So, what about you? Where is your head in all this? You love him, always have...that’s obvious to anyone. But have you fixed up  _ your  _ shit? Because he’s ready to open up to you but if you make him play third wheel to your ego again or give even the slightest hint of neglect, I think it’ll finally break him. Permanently.”

 

Adam reached out and put his hand on Pete’s shoulder, his ice blue gaze piercing through Pete’s core. “I know Patrick is yours, but I love him, too. So this is all up to you now. But if  _ you  _ end up hurting him, I won’t have to threaten you with anything...because he’ll implode and completely self destruct.”

 

This was all too much for Pete. Fears, anxiety, the weight of how much importance this held…

 

“I’m going to go take a shower and get some sleep. I...I need...I’m feeling too much right now.”

  
  


**

  
  


Pete was feeling only marginally better after his shower. It was difficult to resist staying in there for longer, allowing the heat and steam to envelop him in the warm embrace of peacefulness, hugging him close and keeping him warm, but reality was sitting outside the bathroom door and there was no way he could avoid the situation he was in now. 

 

He dried hastily and dressed quickly, annoyed at how fucking hard it always was to get dressed in the bathroom after a shower. He was already over the top with tension and he couldn’t even indulge in a relaxing shower. When he was wound up tight like this, Pete liked nothing more than a long, scalding hot shower, then getting out and laying out naked on top of the bed while his body dried and cooled back down, pondering his thoughts and feelings. It was like meditation. 

 

He could have really used some alone time right now.

 

Pete opened the bathroom door, pulling it back and forth to disperse some of the steam (the extractor fan was on but his shower was so hot that the steam still filled the tiny room), before stepping out, spare towel slung around his shoulders as his hair drip dried. Adam was still there ( _ fuck _ ) and greeted Pete with a nod of his head. 

 

“Feeling any better, Pete?”

 

Pete had really hoped that the living area would be vacated when he emerged from the shower. He just wanted to be alone and try (fruitlessly) to get some sleep. “Not even in the slightest, but thanks for asking anyways. No offense, but I kinda just wanna go to bed. I’m not trying to put you out in your own place but...I don’t really feel comfortable with you in the same room at the moment.”

 

“Oh, no worries, I understand...but I was planning on sleeping out here. I want you to have the spare bed. I insist.”

 

Pete took the end of the towel that was around his shoulders and started to scrub at his wet hair. It was already starting to curl up and fluff out but he didn’t really feel like going through the whole routine of straightening it tonight. It was going to be a big fucking mess come morning, and he disliked the idea of Adam and (new) Patrick seeing him in his natural state. It was stupid, really, but the idea of them seeing him without his hair perfectly done made him feel vulnerable as hell. 

 

Whatever, there was nothing he could do about this right now. “Yeah, I dunno if that’s the best idea but...whatever. I’ll take it. Thanks.”

 

“No problem, Pete. Besides, I have an ulterior motive. If we’re continuing to be completely honest with each other, I was feeling a little afraid that you’d start overthinking things and sneak off in the middle of the night. I really don’t think Patrick would have been able to recover from that, frankly.”

 

Pete had to laugh. This guy’s powers of observation and intuition were on point. “Yeah, that’s probably...I think that sounds like something I would have done. So...okay. Fair enough. I can’t really be upset at you for that. You’re pretty right.”

 

“Try to get some sleep. Trick says you’ve never been to good about that.”

 

“Hey, don’t call him that. It’s  _ Patrick  _ to you, buddy, so just jot that down.” Pete said with a smile. Adam wasn’t so bad, afterall. He was doing his best to look out for his Patrick and really, that’s all he could want out of someone. 

 

“My bad, sorry sorry!” Adam replied with a chuckle. “Well, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep much tonight so if insomnia starts to kick your ass and you want to chill, just come out and we can pass the time. Alright? And if I am asleep, I give you permission to wake me up. I promise, I won’t mind.”

 

Pete nodded and looked up at Adam, seeing the earnest truth spread across the taller man’s face. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, nestling into his chest, and found himself doing something rather surprising. He reached up to wrap an arm over Adam’s shoulder, pulling him down into a hug. “Thanks, man. Seriously. For...you know...for everything.”

 

Pete held on for a moment too long but Adam allowed it, patting the older man’s back lightly and indulging in Pete’s desperate need for some sort of physical affection and reassurance. Some of the tangled yarn that was locked in Pete’s chest started to unwind and for the first time in three days, he felt like he could breathe. He felt some semblance of assurance. And for the first time since the hiatus, Pete felt like there was someone there for him.

 

Adam didn’t release his hold, sensing Pete’s need, but the bassist pulled back just enough to look up at Adam. It was wrong but Pete felt that sense of serenity course through his limbs and allowed muscle memory and basic instinct to move his limbs. 

 

Pressing up on his toes, Pete elongated his height as he pulled Adam down by the back of his head so they could meet in the middle in a kiss. It wasn’t much...just a press of lips, firm and with intent, parting slightly enough to allow their tongues to connect and greet each other. Pete pressed closer, chasing the warmth and feeling of being safe in the composed arms of someone else. It had been a very long time since Pete felt something like this...someone solid and safe...someone that was willing to allow him to fold and be cared for...someone that just  _ knew him  _ with such infallible precision and would guide him through himself and back into the warm arms of safety. 

 

He completely understood the allure Patrick felt and any insecurity and jealousy faded as he reached out with his soul for Adam’s guidance.

Adam drew Pete into his chest and held on tight. “Anytime, Pete.”

  
  


**

  
  


Somehow, at some point in the night, Pete fell asleep. He didn’t feel tired in the least; his mind racing racing racing with a million thoughts and replaying the events of the last couple of days over in his head. He prepared countless speeches in his imagination, played back alternate endings of what went down, tried to fine tune his words in preparation of the following day’s interactions. Now that he had a better idea of how both Adam and Patrick would react to him, he felt he could be better prepared. Pete felt he had Adam’s personality down but Patrick was still a bit of a wild card. At least he now knew to expect the unexpected and could fortify his nerves by playing out various scenarios in his mind. 

 

Pete was sure he’d be awake the entire night with how busy his thoughts were running, but somehow sleep crept up on him and knocked him out with a sucker punch. 

 

Even in his dreams, Pete was still replaying events in his head, which just added to the illusion that he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

 

However, when he was ripped from a scene of him and Patrick holding hands and calmly discussing their feelings by the sound of Patrick straight up yelping, he knew that shit was only calm in his dreams. It took a few moments for Pete to clear the clouds of confusion and differentiate what was real and what was fantasy, but as soon as he came to the conclusion that Patrick’s sounds of distress coming from the other bed were what was reality, he threw the comforter off of him and jumped to action. 

 

The early morning sunlight was filtering in through the curtains so he was able to see everything in the room in good clarity. He kneeled over Patrick and started to shake his shoulder. Patrick was yelping and mumbling, not really saying anything but the distress was clear. His eyes were half open but he couldn’t see anything except whatever was threatening him in his mind. Patrick was never prone to nightmares in the past but Pete was practically a professional when it came to being ripped from sleep by the misery of your own subconscious mind. 

 

Pete climbed into Patrick’s bed and pulled him up into a slightly elevated position, sliding his arm over his shoulder and holding him up in a side hug. Pete always found that being shaken awake made him feel more disconnected when he finally woke up. Holding Patrick close would make him feel more reassurance, as well as help keep any limbs from flailing around should he be dreaming of being chased or something. 

 

“Trick...Patrick...Tricky...come on, man. It’s okay. Wake up, dude.” Pete pulled Patrick closer, rocking slightly and patting at his side as his sleeping friend’s distressed mumbling started to quiet. His eyes started to blink open in bleary confusion as he tugged on Pete’s arms to draw him in closer. 

 

“Fuck. Pete?” Patrick was waking up quickly now, relief that the dream was over, pulling away and sitting up in the bed. “Shit. Pete, I’m...fuck.”

 

“You’re good. Sounds like a pretty decent nightmare you had going on there.” Pete reached out to rub Patrick’s exposed thigh. It was an unconscious reflex, something he’d have liked for himself should the tables have been turned. Patrick didn’t seem to notice the action and just relaxed a bit into the pillows behind him. 

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. Shit, did I...did I wake you up? Did you hear...hear that from the other room? Shit.” Patrick’s embarrassment at the thought was clear on his flushed face. 

 

“No, I was...I was sleeping in the other bed. It’s okay, though. I wasn’t really  _ actually _ asleep yet. No need to worry.” Pete figured lying a little wouldn’t hurt right now. 

 

Thankfully, it worked. Patrick seemed to relax a bit. “Oh, okay...good. Good. I hate waking Adam up when I...wait,” Patrick sat up again and leaned over to look at the other bed. “Where’s Adam?”

 

“He said he wanted to sleep in the other room. He was…” Pete stopped himself from telling the full truth again. Letting Patrick know that Adam was concerned that he’d sneak off in the night probably wouldn’t gain him any more trust right now. “Adam was being a very hospitable host and insisted I take the spare bed. He’s...he’s a good guy.”

 

Pete could feel the intensity of Patrick’s gaze. The blonde studied Pete’s face in the dim room, trying to see if his body language matched the words he spoke. Pete was never able to hide the truth of his words from Patrick’s analytical stare. 

 

“We...we hung out for a while and just...we talked. About...you know, stuff? And...yeah, he’s alright. I like him. He’s been good to you, yeah?” 

 

Patrick was a little surprised to hear these words and even more stunned to see that Pete’s body language confirmed the validity of his statement. There didn’t seem to be any anger, jealousy, resentment…

 

“Yeah, he’s been good to me. Um, how much did he...like, what did he tell you?”

 

“Enough. Don’t worry, he’s a gentleman. He didn’t say anything explicit but I’ve always known how to fill in the gaps” Pete shook his head and laughed. “I was going to make a  _ Grand Theft Autumn  _ joke but...yeah. I think you get the idea.”

 

“Oh god, you’re such a fucking idiot.” Patrick was smiling fondly as he said this, though, and Pete never felt so relieved in his life. In this moment, the tension between them was gone and they were just two dumb kids again. 

 

Patrick yawned and slid down to lay down in his bed, tugging on Pete’s shirt as he pulled the comforter over himself. Pete didn’t move and that hesitation made Patrick nervous. The older man just stared down at Patrick’s face, who was looking back up at him with an open and hopeful expression. Patrick understood why Pete would be so hesitant. With everything he put his friend through tonight, he was so grateful that he was still here. Patrick knew he pushed Pete well past his limits and the fact he was still here and the one to pull him out of one of his almost nightly torments was just all the proof that Patrick needed that it was time to start healing and come back together.

 

Finding a stronger resolve in his decision, Patrick took a more forceful grip on the front of Pete’s shirt and tugged him down. “Stop thinking, Pete. Just. Come to bed. Seriously.”

 

Throwing down the final barrier that Pete was holding onto, Pete slid down under the covers. Patrick rolled over to cover Pete’s body with his own, tucking his face into his neck and breathing in. Pete pulled Patrick in as close as he could, sinking into the feeling of being enveloped in relief as Patrick threw his leg over Pete’s thighs and kissed his neck.

 

Pete was able to fall asleep within a few minutes. 

  
  


**

  
  


Waking up in various strange hotel rooms over the years never stopped feeling weird. Pete always knew when he was waking up in bed that wasn’t his own; the clinical smells of bleached hotel sheets, the not-quite-right amount of light bleeding in through the windows, the lack of the familiar sounds of home. 

 

No matter how many cities, no matter how many years, Pete always knew when he wasn’t waking up at home. 

 

But as Pete started to wake up now, he felt a different type of confusion. Most of the signs that he was in a strange place were present, but there was a very familiar smell filling his senses. It wasn’t his home, but it was  _ home.  _ He was covered in warmth, enveloped in it...the hot, familiar scent of TRESemme shampoo and musky night sweat filling his nose…a feeling of serenity and peace deep in his chest. As the increments of his awakening passed, memories of the night prior started to make it’s way back to the forefront of Pete’s mind. He opened his eyes and looked down at the heavy weight that was draped over his chest and smiled down at Patrick’s face. The blonde appeared to be wide awake, head turned up and looking at him with the softest, most loving expression, as his hand traced shapes over his neck and collarbone.

 

“Morning, Pete.” 

 

Pete pulled the younger man in closer, revelling in the bliss of waking up with Patrick’s in his arms; sour morning breath and the safety of sleepy body heat. “Morning.”

 

Patrick smiled and bit his lip, eyes gleaming with wonder and a bit of mischief. Pete huffed out a laugh and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

 

Patrick just smiled wider, raking a layer of dead skin off his bottom lip with this front teeth, considering his situation for a moment. He released his lip, licking over it with the tip of his tongue, chewing on the small bit of flesh that he extracted with his biting. Pete’s eyes were locked on his mouth.

 

“Don’t bite your lip, Patrick. You’ll make it bleed.” Pete was trying for a teasing tone but his voice came out a bit ragged and breathless. Patrick shifted his weight to move the leg he had draped over Pete’s thighs down a bit lower. Pete gasped as he felt movement so perilously close to his morning wood. Patrick froze.

 

“Pete…”

 

And in a moment of boldness that Patrick would have never have acted on before, he reached down, under the covers, and cupped Pete’s straining erection in his left hand as he pushed himself up on his right elbow to suck a breathless kiss into Pete’s neck. 

 

The boldness of the action was both thrilling and terrifying.

 

“Oh my... _ fuck... _ Trick, what...Patrick, Patrick...please _ … _ just...wait. Wait a sec...wait wait wait!” Pete gathered as much willpower as he could muster in this state and pushed Patrick back. The singer didn’t look at all put out; in fact, the action only darkened his determined gaze as he growled at Pete in displeasure. “Patrick, I think we need to talk shit out first. Don’t you?”

 

Patrick kept staring into Pete’s eyes and slowly started to lean forward, draping his body over Pete’s. “I think...that I’ve been fucking up my words enough as it is. I think that talking has never done me a bit of good...and to be quite honest, I think all your words are just carefully crafted smokescreen, anyways. I think you’ve spent the last decade using your words as a cover up and you need to fucking stop. I think that I’ve discovered I express myself better with action, not words. I think that I’m fucking _so over_ denying myself anything anymore. I think that we both need to shut the fuck up, stop thinking about things, and just _do._ ”

 

Pete immediately sat up at those words. 

 

_It’s like what the Joker said in_ _The Dark Knight. “Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if i caught it. I just..._ ** _DO_** _things.”_

 

Pete wrapped a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and pulled him closer, just a breath away. “Just  _ do,  _ huh?” Pete was straddling the fence between what he thought he should do and falling into the embrace of Patrick’s words. 

 

_ Words.  _ They were always his armor, his defence...a way to constantly deflect the attention from the softest, most secret parts inside of him. He was safe behind a shield of pretty, pretty prose, designed to allow him to hide in plain sight. People always thought he was baring his soul, heart completely exposed to the elements...but nothing was farther from the truth. Figure Patrick would call him out on this.  _ Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.  _ Well, jinkies, guys...it looks as if Patrick has Scooby Doo’d yet another Pete Wentz mystery. Time to click his ruby encrusted Yeezys three times and take him home.

 

_ There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home... _

 

Before Pete could act upon his decision, Patrick was the first to move into action; maintaining smoldering eye contact as he slowly moved to straddle Pete’s waist. “Yeah, Pete. We’re done talking about things. If there’s one thing I’ve started to learn, it’s that sometimes words just get in the way and never really say what we really need to express.” Pete held on tight as Patrick leaned forward and claimed Pete’s mouth.

 

And Patrick wasn’t fucking kidding. He put almost ten years of feelings into that kiss. It was fucking telepathic how he was able to will every emotion into a physical motion because Pete was able to see, with stunning 1080p clarity, every single thing Patrick had ever felt. 

 

Pete had kissed a  _ lot  _ of people. Pete was a huge fan of kissing. But he’d never been kissed with this level of intent and communication. Patrick was injecting him with...with kissing synesthesia or some shit cos Pete swore he could  _ see, feel, hear  _ everything in his friend’s head.

 

Patrick had both of his hands gripping and pulling at Pete’s hair, tugging with just enough force to keep him safe and grounded and at the same time, fill him with so much intensity that he felt close to bursting. Pete was holding on as tight as he could to Patrick’s hips, fingers digging into sharp, prominent bones that felt so different from what he was expecting but felt positively delightful, nonetheless. He massaged his palms into the sharp edges of those hip bones, becoming acquainted with them for the first time, memorizing the give and press of Patrick’s flesh as his fingers continued to bore holes into those deadly hips. 

 

Patrick was moving way too fucking much. Writhing, wiggling, undulating. Pete held on tight, holding Patrick close while his friend continued to press closer. Chest to chest, they could count the beats of each other’s hearts. Mouth to mouth, they were telling each other tales of their desire. Hips to hips, they were trying to fuse into one being.

 

Patrick’s grip in his hair loosened and his hands travelled to Pete’s chest, pushing down and lifting his head to disconnect their lips. “I want you, Pete. I want it all.”

 

Pete had to close his eyes and bite his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check. His hands, however, decided to go rogue and reached around to grab two handfuls of Patrick’s ass, squeezing tightly. Patrick was writhing again, moaning loudly and brazenly in his ear as he worked his mouth over Pete’s neck, sucking, biting, and leaving his mark. Pete was two seconds away from flipping them over, pinning Patrick down on the mattress, throwing his legs over his shoulders, driving into his--

 

“Hey, good morning. Are you guys okay--”

 

Pete froze when he realized that Adam was peeking into the room. To his credit, he was pretty sure the singer had knocked...several times...but Pete was a little bit more than distracted and completely forgot that there were other inhabitants on the planet, much less another individual in the adjoining room. Pete was trying to move away to cover them with a sheet, but Patrick wasn’t moving. The blonde simply turned his head around to peer at Adam over his shoulder. Pete could see a smirk on his face. 

 

“Yeah, I’d say you guys are much more than okay.” Adam laughed as Patrick bit his lip, still smirking. The guy’s laugh was weird...stereotypically nerdy and completely mismatched with his appearance. 

 

In a move completely unexpected, Patrick shifted his body over and started to pat the side of the bed that was vacant. “Come here, Adam. I want to introduce you to someone.”

 

Pete startled and tried to dislodge Patrick and sit up. He didn’t have a clue as to what Patrick was up to and he was a bit thrown off. “Trick, what are you doing?” he hissed, wiggling from under his friend. Patrick may have been 4 stone lighter, but he was still a compact ball of muscle, always able to pin Pete down when he really wanted to.

 

Adam was smiling as he took a seat on the bed, near Pete’s shoulders. Patrick slid off of Pete’s lap but kept one leg draped over his thighs, assertive and possessive. “Adam, darling, I’d like to introduce you to Pete.” Patrick reached over and ran a hand over his chest, trailing his nails over the bristly hair gathered at the center.

 

“I think you’ve mentioned him a few times,” Adam joked. 

 

To say Pete was confused was putting things lightly but he decided he could play along until he could figure shit out. After all, he made an entire profession out of  _ fake it til you make it.  _ “Nice to meet you...again...or for the first time.”

 

This made Adam laugh, a full bodied Lewis Skolnick laugh that was strangely comforting and disarming. “I think I’ve met a past version of you a couple of times before in passing, but this is the first time I’m meeting Patrick’s boyfriend.”

 

Patrick reached for one of Pete’s hands, lacing their fingers together. Pete relaxed. “Yeah.”

 

Adam and Patrick were staring at one another, a silent conversation passing between them. Pete has never been the outsider in one of these silent interactions and now he really understood the way an observer would find them to be a bit too intense. But there was something magnetic about watching Patrick and Adam’s connection and he didn’t feel left out in the least. He actually felt like he was in the center of their mental reciprocity. 

 

Pete always did revel in being the center of attention.

 

And when the spotlight found its way to illuminate him, he was ready to perform.

 

_ Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice...It’s showtime... _

 

But this wasn’t just about taking center stage. Pete had something to prove now. He needed to fulfill Patrick in all the ways he’s dreamed of and he needed to let Adam know that in spite of his lack of experience, he was a far superior choice. Pete did not like playing second fiddle or coming in as second best. He needed to let them both know just what he was capable of.

 

Pete sat up and moved so he was on his knees. Two pairs of inquisitive blue eyes turned to face him, sharp and critical. He smirked at the filthy expressions that his small movement seemed to illiciet in both men. “Well, this is certainly an interesting situation. Meeting my boyfriend and my boyfriend’s boyfriend all at the same time. I feel like I have a lot to prove now.”

 

Patrick’s face softened. “Pete...no, you...I didn’t mean anything like that.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m not broken hearted...and I’m not pissed off.” Pete was pleased with the surprised gasp Patrick let out when he paraphrased some of the lyrics to  _ Allie _ . “And I’d love for you to show me all those naughty things you’ve learned. I think there’s a lot we can show one another.”

 

Patrick looked a little less nervous, but still a bit tense. He was experiencing a strange amalgam of suspense, trepidation, and excitement. Adam, ever capable of diffusing any bad vibes, leaned over and put an arm around Patrick, drawing them all in closer together. Patrick made it clear that words were useless so he decided to roll with that idea. Keeping eye contact back and forth between Adam and Patrick, Pete smirked as he climbed off the bed to start removing the sleep shorts he was wearing. It took only a few seconds before he was standing before these two men, completely nude. While Pete never shy about being naked, Patrick always managed to run out of the room or keep his eyes firmly shut whenever Pete was exposed.

 

This was the first time Patrick allowed himself to actually look.

 

Having two pairs of eyes on him was electrifying, powerful...made him feel more at home. Patrick’s face was openly stunned and lustful; Adam was smiling appreciatively at what Pete was presenting them, a perfectly plucked black eyebrow raised as he nodded his approval. 

 

“And what are you here to do, Pete?” Adam asked, confidence in his tone. He pulled Patrick closer to his side, the blonde still looking a little overwhelmed. 

 

Pete stepped closer to the bed and kneeled on the edge, close to the pair but not yet touching them. “Well,” he started, cupping Patrick’s face with both hands as he drew his tanned body closer. “I’m here to claim something that has always belonged to me...something I should have done years ago. I’m here to collect your heart, Patrick.”

 

Pete pulled their faces together in a kiss, deep with intent and full of fire. After a few moments, Pete pulled away and turned his head towards Adam. “And you, Adam....I’m here for your entertainment.” Pete leaned forward and started to make out with Adam. Patrick squeaked.

 

“That sounds like a situation full of so many very interesting possibilities, Pete.” Adam said, a little breathless but still retaining his composure. He knew that whatever was going through Patrick’s mind was surely a bit much for the blonde, and in his usual caretaking manner, knew that his purpose here was again more for support and guidance. “I’d like to see what you have in store for your boy here, though. And I think there’s a lot of surprises he has for you.”

 

The look Patrick gave Adam was intense and full of some sort of meaning that Pete wasn’t clued in on but thought he could translate, nonetheless. Patrick’s expressions weren’t all that different from the ones he used when they were just dirty teenagers in a fucked up van. His face was clearly reading something like  _ “I don’t know what I’m doing and this is out of my comfort zone but I really really wanna do this but do you think you could hold my hand? Maybe talk for me? Cos as much as I know what I want, I’m still a bit too scared to act on it”. _

 

Pete remembered Patrick’s stupid levels of shyness, of having to order for him in diners and restaurants for the first couple of years they were friends, too afraid to even order a cup of coffee for himself at a Starbucks. Pete always liked that. He kinda liked having someone to take care of, even if the waitresses or baristas would give him strange looks, obviously trying to figure out what relation the little blonde kid was to him. His kid? Friend? Relative? Underaged jailbait boyfriend? Pete always got a kick out of that even if it made Patrick more pissy about the whole situation. 

 

“Patrick,” Adam’s voice was deeper than usual, soft yet commanding. “Darling, I want you to kneel on the bed. Hands at your sides...just relax and close your eyes. Pete, I want you to undress him. Slowly.”

 

Pete watched Patrick’s body language shift as he moved to follow Adam’s command with a breathy, “Yes, Adam” as his eyes slipped closed. Pete could see this was a familiar dynamic of theirs and appreciated the pretty, pretty picture it created in front of him. 

 

Adam slipped off the bed and moved across the room to take the rolling office chair that was by the little desk in the corner, pushing it into position next to the bed, and taking a seat. He was still dressed in his pajamas but his easy going, familiar demeanor from the night before was gone, and in its place stood a strong and commanding presence. Even in a faded Def Leppard shirt and fleece sleep pants, Adam Lambert still looked every bit as powerful as the Glam God that took the stage the night before. He was beautiful, that much was undeniable, a strange, rare hybrid of mythological and tangible. 

 

Adam sat back in his seat, one bare foot propped up on the bed, black polished toes wiggling just the slightest bit. Pete couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him, even with Patrick kneeling before him, chest rising and falling with each panting breath. The black haired singer rested his chin on the back of his hand and raised an eyebrow at Pete expectantly. “Well? He’s waiting for you, Pete.”

 

Pete turned his attention back to Patrick, eyes squeezed shut and cherry red lips slightly parted as he tried so hard to keep his breathing steady. He could see the flutter of his thin t shirt with each rapid beat of his heart, his hands at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling, a controlled fidget to keep the tremors in his hands at bay. 

 

“Wait. Don’t move.” Adam commanded before standing up. Pete looked over in confusion as Patrick whimpered in protest. “Hush, darling. Give me just a moment.” 

 

Adam was swift in his motions, quickly retrieving what appeared to be a blackout mask from one of the suitcases in the corner. He returned to his perch on the office chair at the side of the bed and handed the item over to Pete. “Darling, Pete is going to put the mask on you. I know you can keep your eyes closed but I want to make it easier on you. Pete, once you’ve got his eyes covered, I want you to remain quiet. No talking, no sounds. Can you manage that? Do you think you can keep completely silent for Patrick?” 

 

“Oh my god, Adam...yes yes yes... _ please!”  _ Patrick begged, hands clenched into tight fists. Pete could see his cock jumping and leaking steadily through the thin material of his boxers and knew that the amount of control Patrick was using to keep his hands of his dick was monumental. 

 

Pete looked back to Adam and nodded his assent. He was normally a bit vocal in bed but if Adam wanted his silence for Patrick, then he was going to do it. He didn’t know what games Adam had in mind, but judging from Patrick’s excitement, he was sure it would be good.

 

“Very good. Now, go ahead and place the mask over Patrick’s eyes.”

 

Pete was quick to obey. Once the mask was placed over Patrick’s eyes and the elastic was adjusted to sit comfortably behind his pointy little ears, Pete looked back to Adam for further instruction.

 

“Perfect. Now, Pete. I want you to remove Patrick’s clothing. And remember...go slowly. I want you to touch every inch of skin as it is exposed. Gather his warmth and explore with your hands and mouth. Patrick, this is just like all those times, remember? So don’t be nervous.”

 

“Yes, Adam. Oh god  _ please.  _ Pete—“

 

Desperation looked so fucking good on Patrick. Jesus. Christ. 

 

“Ah ah ah,” Adam lightly chastised. “You may address only me, sweet boy. Listen to my voice, let your mind go, but don’t forget that I’ll be the only one you will speak to until I say otherwise. Pete, remember, no words. Not a sound. Do we all understand?”

 

Tight lipped and serious about his vow of silence, Pete nodded. Patrick gasped out an almost inaudible “Yes, Adam.”

 

“Wonderful. Let’s play.”

  
  


**

 


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For Pete, having Patrick completely undressed and spread out before him...blindfolded, hands trembling at his sides...sitting between those milky white, satin soft thighs...watching as he flexes his little toes into the bedsheets...watching his belly quiver, no longer round and solid but instead concave and delicate, yet still oh so fucking delectable...taking in every inch of naked skin for his eyes to feast upon, gluttonous and starved...it was a fucking dream come true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is it. I can’t believe we’ve finally come to the end of this tale.
> 
> Writing this story was a whirlwind romance, a labor of love, and a celebration of highs and lows. I never expected the feedback for this fic to be so positive. I never expected this story to be so well received. I never expected my beloved Adam Lambert to be embraced so wholeheartedly.
> 
> I am forever grateful to every single one you for reading this. 
> 
> **
> 
> The title of this chapter is taken from the Adam Lambert song _Aftermath_ off of his album **For Your Entertainment**. 
> 
> You can check out a lyric video for this song [here](https://youtu.be/3DA5Pf8NFfA)

_ “Wonderful. Let’s play.” _

  
  


**

  
  


For Pete, having Patrick completely undressed and spread out before him...blindfolded, hands trembling at his sides...sitting between those milky white, satin soft thighs...watching as he flexes his little toes into the bedsheets...watching his belly quiver, no longer round and solid but instead concave and delicate, yet still oh so fucking delectable...taking in every inch of naked skin for his eyes to feast upon, gluttonous and starved...it was a fucking dream come true. 

 

He wanted to press his face deep into the crevasse of his ass and breathe in the deep musk that was concentrated around his taint and balls. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of skin, tasting the tang of salt, sweat, and desire. He wanted to do so much to the man in front of him, yet he held back, patient and subdued,  _ waiting waiting waiting… _

 

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he? One of the most beautiful boys I have ever encountered in my entire life. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

 

Pete opened his mouth to reply, so deep was his reverence of the beauty before him that he almost forgot he was not allowed to make a sound. Quickly catching himself before making an error, Pete snapped his mouth closed and nodded at Adam. 

 

“He’s so sensitive. Responsive. Always so touch hungry and eager to please. So emotionally charged. He loves to be praised. Did you ever suspect that of him? I’m sure you know how he comes off so flippant and angry all the time, even in his more intimate moments. I was a little surprised when I uncovered that soft, fragile side of him.” 

 

Pete forced himself to look away from Patrick’s quivering form and raise an eyebrow at Adam’s words. No, Pete really didn’t have any clue what Patrick would be like when all of his walls were completely gone, much less what he would be like behind closed doors and under the sheets. To be quite honest, Pete imagined Patrick to be a little spitfire in the sack, an absolute demon in the sheets, someone who channeled their passion by being more aggressive in bed; controlling, dominating, forceful. But judging from what he was experiencing right now, it looked like Patrick was much more of a needy and vulnerable type. Delicate and submissive. It was an intimidating realization. 

 

“See how perfectly smooth he is? Not a single hair on his entire body. Do you want to feel him? See how smooth and supple his skin feels? I bet he would love to finally have your hands on him. Would you like that, Patrick? Would you like to have me direct Pete’s hands along your body? Tell me what you want and I’ll have your boy take care of you. He’s been very eager to feel you, you know. If only you could see him, darling. Your Pete is showing such amazing restraint. For you. He’s doing so good, just for you.”

 

Patrick was quiet. Controlled. But Pete could feel the waves of emotions pouring out of him. He looked at Adam with pleading eyes, hoping he was able to convey his request without the use of his voice. 

 

Adam’s eyes smoldered in silent reply to Pete’s appeal. 

 

Message received. Request approved. 

 

“Pete, I want you to start touching him. Start at his ankles and work your way up. Drape your body over his. Blanket him. Cover him with your love and let him know he’s protected. I want you to envision your heart and every feeling you have for him. Pretend your skin is your voice and tell him. Tell him  _ everything.  _ Confess it all, Pete.”

 

Pete composed himself and closed his eyes, working himself into a meditative state and trying to gather up everything he felt in order to translate them into touch. This made so much sense to Pete. Words were his smokescreen and being stripped of them was forcing him to be more honest than he ever imagined he could be. It was fucking liberating. 

 

Feeling ready, Pete opened his eyes and shifted his position, taking each one of Patrick’s ankles in his hands, holding tight, expressing to Patrick  _ I am here...I am your anchor...I will hold you down...I will never let you slip away ever again.  _ Loosening his grip, he started running his hands up his shins, stopping at his knees and leaning down to kiss them. He stopped just a few inches short of making contact and glanced over at Adam for approval. The older man simply nodded, a soft smile on his lips, and his eyes dancing with contentment. 

 

Pete placed his hands under each of Patrick’s knees, giving enough pressure to tell him to lift. Patrick understood and placed his legs over Pete’s shoulders. Pete closed his eyes and buried his face in the folds of those knees, kissing and worshipping. Before he knew it, Pete was starting to cry.  

 

One time Pete wrote: _ I've been daydreaming of car crashes and comas...sleeping pills and bad decisions. Because it's better to disappear than continue being invisible.  _ For some reason that came back to him in haunting clarity. It was a bad day when he felt that, spiraling for weeks into a darkness that he just couldn’t work his way out of. He was five years sober (aside from the occasional drink in a social setting) and three years off of medication. He had pretty much learned how to handle his emotions, raw and uncut, but those few weeks were bad. Exceptionally bad. Negating almost five years of hard work and personal growth. 

 

He had nothing going on and no one in his life at that time, going days and days without speaking a word to another living creature. He was remembering that time right now as he caressed and kissed his way down Patrick’s thighs...Patrick blindfolded and begging, fucking  _ begging _ . 

 

He wasn’t supposed to say a thing or make a sound, and yet the one person he wanted to set the world on fire for, just to be noticed, was finally hearing every single thing he has ever wanted to say.

 

All without making a fucking sound. 

 

Something deep and primal broke inside of Pete in that moment, and he surged forward, pulling Patrick into his arms, covering him with his entire body, wriggling and writhing. They were both clutching desperately to one another; Patrick’s nails dragging down over the tender skin of Pete’s back as he tossed his head from side to side on the pillow, yelling. Pete didn’t make a sound as he kissed and tasted Patrick’s skin, shaking with the intensity of his silent tears, body convulsing with every soundless sob.

 

Patrick stilled and held Pete close to his chest, realizing he was crying. “Pete? Pete, baby...what’s happening?” Patrick was patting the tangled curls of Pete’s hair as the weight on his chest shifted and Pete buried his face into the crook of Patrick’s neck, expelling all of his heart in silence. He didn’t mean to break the rules of the game but this was getting too real.

 

“It’s okay, darling.” Adam consoled an obviously panicked Patrick. “Your boy is okay. He’s not broken...he’s simply coming back together. Just hold him. He needs you to help him heal. Pete, sweetheat, listen to me, you’re doing so good...so much better than anyone could ever ask for, but if you need to make some noise, you’re allowed.” 

 

Within the safety of Patrick’s neck, Pete shook his head forcefully from side to side.  _ No no no no, I can do this...I won’t make a sound...I can show Patrick how capable I am of keeping it together even if it seems like I’m a fucking train wreck. I’m good. I’m good. I’m good. _

 

“Yes, you are. You are  _ so  _ good. Isn’t he doing so good, darling? Tell me how proud of your boy you are.”

 

Patrick wanted so badly to rip off the fucking blindfold. The control freak side of him was telling him that now was not the appropriate time for playing games. He had spent so long being Pete’s un/official caretaker that sensing his distress was making him want to jump into the calculated persona that would take over the situation and put Pete in his place. 

 

But Pete was silent and not being able to hear Pete was so disconcerting. It was unnatural.

 

_ Quiet...I can’t hear you...I don’t trust you...Be ashamed of the mess you’ve made...My eyes never forget...You see behind me.... _

 

But maybe...fuck, if Pete wanted this to stop, he would have been the first to say so. 

 

_ Behind me the grace of falling snow...Covers up everything you know...Come save me from the awful sound...Of nothing. _

 

“Patrick? Darling. It’s okay. Your boy is doing perfectly. Please don’t be afraid, don’t allow your thoughts to intrude. I want you to hold him, touch his hair, and tell me some of the things that you adore most about him. Don’t be afraid. Everything is fine. Pete, touch your sweet boy. Let him know that you’re still with us, that you still want to do this. Your Trick needs reassurance, too.”

 

“Adam, I don’t know…I don’t think--” Patrick was cut off when Pete placed a gentle hand on the side of Patrick’s face and stroked lovingly. The sobbing seemed to have subsided in the duration of Patrick’s freak out and Pete’s gentle touch was the reassurance Patrick needed. 

 

They stayed that way for a few minutes, just petting and quiet. Pete was still crying, though not as violently, and pressing occasional kisses to the side of Patrick’s face, neck, and chest. Feeling safe and warm, Patrick started to sing to Pete. 

 

_ Nothing left to say and all I've left to do _ __  
_ Is run away from you _ __  
_ And he led me on, down _ __  
_ With secrets I can't keep  _ __  
__  
_ Close your eyes and sleep _ __  
_ Don't wait up for me _ __  
_ Hush now don't you speak _ __  
_ To me _ __  
__  
_ Wrapped my hurt in you _ __  
_ And took my shelter in that pain _ __  
_ The opiate of blame _ __  
_ Is your broken heart, your heart _ __  
__  
_ So now I'm all by myself _ __  
_ As I've always felt _ __  
_ I'll betray my tears _ __  
_ To anyone caught in our ruse of fools _ __  
__  
_ One last kiss from me...yeah _ __  
_ One last kiss good night _ __  
__  
_ Didn't want to lose you once again _ __  
_ Didn't want to be your friend _ __  
_ Fulfilled a promise made of tin _ __  
_ And crawled back to you _ __  
__  
_ I'm all by myself _ __  
_ As I've always felt _ __  
_ I'll betray myself _ __  
_ To anyone, lost, anyone but you _ __  
__  
_ So let the sadness come again _ __  
_ On that you can depend on me, yeah _ __  
_ Until the bitter, bitter end of the world, yeah _ __  
_ When god sleeps in bliss _ __  
__  
_ And I'm all by myself _ __  
_ As I've always felt _ __  
_ And I'll betray myself _ __  
_ To anyone _ __  
  
  


When Patrick whispered the last few lines, he was in tears himself. 

 

“Pete, I’m sorry for everything I did. I didn’t realize how much I loved you, how long I’ve loved you, how much you loved me back. We were angry and toxic and...I’m so sorry.”

 

Pete didn’t reply. He couldn’t. 

 

But he could show Patrick how he was feeling. 

 

Sitting up, Pete looked over at Adam, who was watching them quietly, and waved a hand to indicate he wanted Adam to move closer. Pete moved to straddle Patrick’s thighs, hand on his smooth chest to steady himself and remain connected to Patrick, and reached out to pull Adam down towards the younger man beneath him. 

 

He wanted Patrick to be surrounded with love, cocooned in it.

 

It was a strange experience to be naked and crying. They were completely exposed, in every sense of the word, no barriers to hide behind. But it was liberating. Healing. 

 

Adam kneeled onto the bed, being pulled in by Pete. The singer caressing Pete’s face and closing the distance between them in a kiss. They each had a hand laid out over Patrick’s body while their mouths and tongues were entwined; Pete’s hand stroking the area over Patrick’s heart, Adam’s palm pressing against the heaving expanse of Patrick’s rib cage. 

 

“Oh my god. You both feel...you sound...it’s so good.”

 

Adam broke off his kiss with Pete and smirked at the other dark haired man. “Patrick darling, your boy has a heavenly mouth.” Adam stretched out to lay alongside Patrick, bracketing him with his body and tipped his chin to the side to gift him with a lusty kiss of his own. Pete, still straddling Patrick’s thighs, reached out to cup the blonde’s cock. Reverent. Devotional.

 

Patrick gasped at the touch, pulling away from Adam and moaning. “Darling, how does it feel to have your boy’s hands on you?” 

 

Patrick’s breath stuttered. “He feels...I...oh my god.”    
  


“You should see his face. He’s looking at you with such wonder.”

 

Adam sat up against the headboard and stroked Patrick’s neck and chest with his fingertips, watching as Pete ran his tanned hands along Patrick’s inner thighs and crotch; the bassist’s breath stuttering and his gaze piercing with lust as he watched Patrick’s cock harden before his eyes. To Patrick, it felt as if his were senses were all colliding. He was being touched everywhere and was unable to predict where the next caress would land.

 

“Pete, sweetheart, would you like to taste your boy?” 

 

The moment those words left Adam’s lips, Patrick gripped the sheets and moaned. “Jesus fucking...hell, yes. Please,” the blonde muttered under his breath.

 

Pete wrapped his hand around Patrick’s thick cock, stroking the shaft slowly between his loosely gripping fingers, admiring. He was bigger than Pete imagined and this excited him; made his mouth water. He tightened his grip around the base, feeling Patrick pulse and throb in response, a large drop of precum dribbling from his slit and running down the side of the head. Pete leaned over and breathed on the glistening slick, hearing Patrick’s gasp in anticipation and feel his entire body stiffen, then licked away the drop, savoring the first taste of Patrick. In reality, it tasted the same as any other guy he sucked off in the past, but in his memory, Pete cataloged the taste with much more desirable notes. Patrick was getting twitchy and restless but Pete needed a few more moments to burn these memories into his internal hard drive. He wanted this moment to be forever tattooed into his heart. A scarification into his very soul. Patrick’s stuttered breathing, his heaving chest, the way his entire form felt under his hands, the first taste of his essence. He mapped out all of the moles and freckles that were always hidden away and covered. He gave the constellations names.

 

Two moles and a smattering of pale dots across his collarbone and chest were named  _ Signal.  _ A birthmark and two smaller marks on his lower right belly were named  _ Fragments.  _ A small wine stain on his hip, that was called  _ Binary.  _ __

 

The pale, tan freckle on the head of Patrick’s cock...that one was  _ Mine. _

 

Pete looked up at Patrick’s face. He was silent but mouthing the word  _ please  _ over and over as his body trembled. He didn’t realize it, but Adam was whispering in Patrick’s ear; describing in great artistic detail everything that Pete was doing, translating his thoughts into words for Patrick to absorb, winding up Patrick’s desire into a fever pitch. 

 

After a few moments, Adam’s whispering stopped and he met Pete’s gaze with a smirk. “Oh, darling. Get ready. Your boy is going to take you home now.”

 

With a nod, Pete gripped the base of Patrick’s cock and lowered his mouth over the head, taking him down as far as he could; hollowing out his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, sucking, lapping, devouring the man he loved.  Patrick tasted exquisite and being able wind the singer up into a state of writhing passion was everything for Pete. 

 

Adam sat beside Patrick with his right arm over his shoulders, holding him close. He continued to whisper a filthy commentary into Patrick’s ear, describing in great detail everything Pete was doing while Patrick continued to grip the sheets with fiercely shaking fists and moan out broken sounds. Adam detached himself from Patrick and carefully took Patrick’s fists from the sheets, opening his hands and guiding them down to feel Pete’s hair. Patrick wailed, low and long, as he felt the distinct texture of Pete’s ungroomed, natural hair between his fingers. Pete continued to bob his head, slower now, as he sucked Patrick off. 

 

“Darling,” Adam spoke into Patrick’s ear. “Touch his face. Feel how full his cheeks are.”

 

Pete couldn’t help the low groan that escaped his throat, reaching between his legs to squeeze himself tightly and stave off the very sudden and almost uncontrollable need to come. Adam looked over at him, smiling, knowing that Pete was trying his best to keep the silence but thrilled that the man was as tightly wound as Patrick by his erotic narratives. Adam knew of Pete’s exhibisionist streak; most of the world at large knew, thanks to Pete’s inability to keep his mouth shut in interviews. He was the King of TMI and if you ask him a question, you better be prepared for a reply that may not be what you expected or want to hear. But what most people didn’t know about Adam, save the few close enough to gain his confidences, was that the man had a voyeuristic side. And not only did he enjoy sitting back and enjoying the show, but he enjoyed being able to direct and narrate those involved. 

 

But guiding Pete and Patrick held a deeper, even more significant allure for Adam. 

 

Adam was directing the union of twin souls. He was the conductor of a magical symphony. He was guiding two lost hearts back home. 

 

He had been entrusted with such a huge responsibility and knowing how much these two beautiful boys trusted him helped soothe the ache in his heart for his own loneliness. 

 

He wasn’t about to let them down. 

 

Patrick was quiet now, hands holding onto the sides of Pete’s face as the bassist continued to work his mouth. The petite blonde’s body was rigid and tense, taut and shaking. Adam could see he was drifting a bit into subspace and close to coming. 

 

“Pete, sweetheart,” Adam said as he leaned down to cover Patrick’s hands with his own and pull the younger man’s hands away from Pete’s face. Pete pulled off Patrick’s cock, reluctantly and with wide, questioning eyes. “He’s close.” 

 

Pete nodded, compliant and obedient, and shifted to sit on his heels watching as Adam caressed Patrick’s face, who was oddly silent and pliant. Adam then began to whisper softly onto Patrick’s ear. Pete couldn’t hear a word that was being said;  his own hearing filled with the banging pulse of his racing heart and rapid breathing. He closed his eyes and focused on steadying himself. 

 

“Sweetheart, come lie next to your boy.” Adam said as he released his hold on Patrick and shifting to give up his space beside him. Pete did as he was instructed, moving quickly to lie beside Patrick, who reached over and took hold of Pete’s hand as soon as they were side by side. 

 

“Adam, please. You promised.” Patrick panted out, the first coherent words to escape his lips for a while now. He gripped Pete’s hand even tighter, shifting onto his side to face the bassist, and pressing his entire body alongside. “Please, Adam.” He pleaded softly as he began to stroke down Pete’s chest. 

 

Adam was sitting on the other side of Pete and leaned over to press a lingering kiss on Patrick’s hip. “Yes, darling. Pete, sweetheart, is it okay if I touch you?” Adam asked as he trailed one hand down between Pete’s open legs; lower, lower, lower, an inquisitive featherlight touch against the thin and sensitive space behind Pete’s balls.

 

Pete looked up at Adam with an expression filled with confusion, hesitation, and anxiety. Adam raised an eyebrow at Pete’s apprehensive look. Patrick was fully draped over Pete’s side and the blonde was grinding his erection into Pete’s hip, mouthing along the bassist’s neck, stroking his chest as he kept muttering, “Please say yes, say yes, please let him, please, please, please,” into Pete’s ear. 

 

“Have you never done this before, sweetheart?” Adam whispered, understanding Pete’s reluctance. 

 

Pete’s body went tense as he nodded. Patrick moaned. “Oh my god, Adam. He’s never? He’s...I haven’t...oh my god, please, please,  _ please _ .”

 

Adam moved his hand to caress the side of Pete’s knee. “Well, this is something special, isn’t it?” 

 

Pete was still looking at Adam, hesitation melting into a furrowed brow of confusion. Adam smiled. “Well, sweetheart, you’ve not been taken by someone like this before, yeah? Well, our darling has never taken a man in that regard. It seems this is another rather significant first for the both of you.”

 

Patrick had his hands wrapped in Pete’s hair, leg thrown over the bassist’s lap, hips thrusting slowly into the older man’s side. “Pete, please. Please say you will. Please, please, please. Let me. Adam, please. Tell me he wants me to. Please.”

 

“He does, darling. He wants to. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

 

Pete closed his mouth and swallowed, nodding his confirmation to Adam. Patrick, feeling that Pete was nodding in the affirmative, clung even tighter to Pete’s side, mumbling praise and thanks while Pete held him close, kissing the sweaty soft hair at the crown of Patrick’s head. 

 

Adam quietly slipped off the bed, watching his two beautiful boys clutching one another in wonder and rapture. It brought a warmth to his heart, seeing Patrick so complete at last. There were no remnants of melancholy or hesitation in his friend. The final brick in the wall of his guarded heart finally falling away with each moment that passed in Pete’s presence. He has come so far. They both have. Adam was astonished at how readily Pete was able to fall into everything Patrick needed. So patient, delicate, open, and giving. It was obvious that Pete had done all he could to annihilate his demons and become the man that Patrick deserved. 

 

His boys were wrapped in one another, perfectly polar forms of dark and light, yin and yang, alpha and omega. Such contrasting beings that were the perfect complimentary piece for one another. 

 

Adam kept watching them as he discreetly retrieved lube and condoms from his luggage. Pete was whimpering; small, choked off sounds that he was probably unaware of making. He was such a good pup, adhering to the rules of play with such eagerness to please. He was taking this one task so seriously, showing such surprising restraint and self-control. Patrick, however, was a mess; calling out Pete’s name and trying to get the older man to speak to him. Pete held back, a side glance in Adam’s direction as he returned to the bed with his supplies, just in time to catch Patrick’s wandering hand as he huffed in frustration, just about to pull the blindfold off. 

 

“No no no, darling. Patience, sweet boy.” Adam chided as he guided Patrick’s hand away from the blackout mask that was still obscuring his vision. A frustrated growl burst from Patrick’s throat and Adam couldn’t help but smirk. Patrick was a sight; all disheveled blonde hair, flushed and sweaty skin, thick cock pulsing and leaking. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Adam...fucking  _ please  _ already!”

 

“Settle down, spitfire. I need to get your boy ready for you, darling.” Patrick puffed out a breath of air but settled back down onto the pillows. Pete was sitting up on his elbows watching them both, fingers trailing soft, teasing strokes along his shaft. “Hmm, it appears your sweetheart is quite looking forward to this. You should see him. All glistening, caramel skin, touching himself. He looks so inviting. So beautiful. You both look stunning together.”

 

Pete bit his lip, watching Adam as the younger man took a seat between Pete’s legs and popped open the top of the bottle of lube. Patrick, hearing the tell tale  _ click  _ of the cap, moaned and curled himself around Pete’s side once again, muttering, “It’s about fucking time,” as he shifted positions to trade kisses with Pete. 

 

Once Adam has coated his fingers, he reached down, nudging at Pete’s kneecaps to open his legs wider, and pressed softly at Pete’s hole, barely brushing inquisitive strokes across the rim. The older man immediately tensed up, legs going to close involuntarily in response to the foreign sensation. 

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll go slowly and very gently, I promise. Feel free to pause the game at anytime if you need to tell me something, okay? We can end things completely or just take a break. Patrick, darling, I want you to touch him. Stroke him, kiss him, keep his mind distracted, and make sure his body stays relaxed. Ready?”

 

Pete nodded and Patrick was all shit eating grins and filthy moans. Adam felt like the luckiest man in the world right now. 

 

With his left hand resting on Pete’s hip to ground him, Adam started to press a single finger against Pete’s entrance. “Sweetheart, take a deep breath and when you exhale I’m going to push in.” Pete was clutching onto Patrick but nodded and did as told. When his breath was released, Adam breached the tight ring of muscle and started to slowly work his digit around. 

 

“ _ Fuck!”  _ Pete couldn’t help hissing out. 

 

“Shh, shh,” Patrick soothed, petting Pete’s chest comfortingly. “It’s okay, baby. It feels weird the first time, I know.” Patrick pushed up and started to kiss his way blindly down Pete’s body. “But I know a trick that will keep you focused on the good parts.” 

 

Adam continued working slowly into Pete as he watched Patrick slide down a bit on the bed to come face to face with Pete’s cock, wrapping delicate, pale fingers around the shaft, Patrick frowned, feeling that Pete had started to soften a bit. The blonde leaned down, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, he smells incredible, oh my god.” 

 

Adam stilled his hand, waiting for Patrick. The younger man was relishing this moment and Adam didn’t wish to rush him, even if he was concerned for Pete’s comfort. But they didn’t need to wait too long before Patrick let loose a low groan and started to lap at Pete’s cock, licking reverently a few times before sucking him down. 

 

Pete’s entire body shivered and his hands went to rest at the top of Patrick’s head. Adam started to working his finger once again. “That’s good, sweetheart. Let your boy feel you grow harder in his mouth. Look at his face, Peter. He’s in heaven. He wants your pleasure so badly. Look at how blissed he is. Isn’t he beautiful? He’s a miracle.”

 

Pete was biting down on his lower lip as he tensed and tried not to thrust into Patrick’s skilled mouth. His cock had reawakened with a renewed vigor and Adam took the opportunity to slowly work in another digit. Feeling the intrusion, Pete started to tense up once again. Patrick noticed and started pulling out more tricks to distract. 

 

Whatever Patrick was doing was working. With a sudden deep breath, Pete’s entire body seemed to unclench and relax, and Adam could feel him just open up against his fingers. Moving his digits with expert precision, Adam was able to crook in just the right spot, and hit Pete’s prostate dead on. 

 

“Holy fuck!” Pete yelped when Adam started to thrum against Pete’s spot. “Oh my fucking god, do that again! More!” 

 

Hearing Pete’s lust struck voice set Patrick off and he groaned, sucking passionately on Pete’s dick and humping the bed like a fucking middle schooler. Pete was trying his hardest not to thrash his body around, but what he was feeling was far too intense to control. Never before had he felt such unbridled ecstasy. Pete was being wound up into a fervor of lust that felt like the start of a ride on a roller coaster, click click clicking up the track, a slow and steady incline, anticipation growing and growing. He was so close to the highest point of the precipice, that moment of still silence where his body is locked rigid as he gazes out into the skyline before him, hundreds of feet in the air, oxygen so thin his vision starts to tunnel, before crashing in a chaotic freefall back down to earth. 

 

Pete was holding himself steady, carefully trying to keep balanced at the zenith. Adam was now working in a third finger with ease as Patrick sucked and licked and stroked. He was on fire, experiencing an eternal heatstroke. A spiritual revolt from the waist down. 

 

But this wasn’t how he wanted to freefall from the atmosphere. 

 

With as much care as possible, Pete tugged on the back of Patrick’s hair. It was a risky move, but thankfully Patrick’s temper wasn’t provoked by the the act. Instead, he pulled off Pete’s spit-soaked prick, panting for breath. “Pete? Baby, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

 

Adam stilled his hand and watched as Pete wrapped his own around his throbbing cock to keep his approaching orgasm in check while carefully caressing Patrick’s face with the other. “He’s okay, darling. I think he’s letting us know he’s close. And he’s ready for you.” Adam withdrew his fingers from Pete’s ass, wiping them on the bed sheets, pulling Patrick towards him with his other hand. 

 

It took a few minutes, some nervous fumbling by a still blindfolded Patrick and an overeager Pete delaying things from moving as smoothly, but Adam soon managed to guide his boys into place. 

 

Patrick was shaking, his entire body quivering as he steadied himself between Pete’s outstretched thighs and lined himself up. Adam was kneeling behind him, holding onto Patrick’s hips with warm, sure hands. 

 

“Darling, I’m going to take off the blindfold and I want you to look deep into Pete’s eyes as you push in. Go slowly. He will need your self control until he can adjust. Pete, no more games. You can speak. Make all the sounds you wish. Patrick loves sounds. Make music for your boy. Play each other like a song. This is a monumental moment, my loves. Twin Souls uniting for the first time. Burn brightly, my beautiful boys.”

 

Adam stroked Patrick’s sides as his hands travelled upwards, removing the mask slowly. Pete watched, wide-eyed and eager, as Patrick’s hazy sea-foam eyes gazed down upon him. 

 

“Pete,” he whispered, choked out on a gasp. He reached out his left hand and rubbed it along Pete’s stomach and torso; worshipful and reverent. “Oh, Pete. You’re so beautiful.”

 

“I love you, Patrick. I love you so fucking much.” Pete rasped as his legs wrapped around Patrick’s slender waist, pulling the younger man down close. “I’m never going to leave your side. This is my forever. You are my eternity. Patrick, I give myself to you. Entirely. I love you so much.”

 

Patrick leaned down to kiss Pete, while the bassist pulled his love closer, urging him to press his cock inside. Patrick obliged, pushing in slowly, incrementally. It was pure torture for him but he remembered his own first time. Adam had been so delicate and deliberate, making sure that each moment was measured and mindful. Patrick may have never topped a guy before but that came a bit more naturally. Knowing that Pete had never bottomed before...he needed to be so very careful. 

 

In this case, it was a lot easier to give than receive. 

 

With eyes locked onto Pete’s, Patrick bottomed out, pressed in as deeply as he could. Pete’s legs were wrapped tightly around Patrick’s waist, holding them still as the older man tried to adjust to this new sensation of being filled. Pete had known what to expect, in theory, at least, but it was still a little overwhelming. The muscles in Patrick’s arms were starting to spasm and quiver from the strain of balancing his weight above Pete. He didn’t want to move until he was given the green flag, ready to pull out should Pete change his mind, but wanting so badly to give in to his need to start fucking Pete into the mattress.

 

“Pete, don’t hold your breath like that,” Adam interjected, bringing Pete’s mind back to the surface. “Keep your breathing steady. Patrick, start moving. Just rock your body back and forth. Shallow movements. Slowly, darling.”

 

Patrick did as instructed, moaning loud and long at the sensation. For Pete, the motion helped, and the uncomfortable fullness was very quickly replaced with a pressure building deep inside his core. “Oh shit, Trick. That’s...yeah, that’s starting to feel good. Holy shit, this is intense.”

 

They moved together, bodies rocking slowly and carefully. Patrick biting his lip in concentration, his heart swelling to burst with the intensity of all the emotions he was experiencing at once. Before he could help it, Patrick stopped moving, the tears that he was trying to hold back finally welling in his eyes and spilling over. 

 

Seeing Patrick become overwhelmed so suddenly freaked Pete out. “Trick? No, no, no, baby what happened?” 

 

Adam sat back and watched, knowing that they were fine, no interjection would be needed. His boys were doing just fine.

 

Patrick sniffled and balanced his weight on his left arm so he could scrub the tears away from his face. “It’s just...it’s...Jesus fuck, Pete. I’ve loved you for so long and I just can’t believe…” Patrick paused, gazing softly into Pete’s eyes and stroking his hair. 

 

“I know, Trick. I don’t know if you remember this, it was so long ago and you were so young and so drunk...the first time we kissed. The first one that really mattered, to me at least. I can remember that exact moment and how terrified I felt because I  _ knew  _ you were my forever. It was in March 2005, at my my mom’s house. You just got back from England and you hadn’t even gone home yet...you opened the fucking door like you lived there, saw me on the couch, and then clocked me in the face. You remember that? Then we both cried,  _ a lot,  _ and you got shitfaced wasted on my dad’s scotch? Then you kissed me. Fuck, it hit me so damned hard and I was terrified. You tasted like whiskey and tears and cotton candy. I loved every heartbreaking moment.”

 

Patrick smiled at Pete’s romantic babbles and surged down to kiss him passionately, pressing his hips flush against Pete, pushing his cock as deep as it could go. Pete grunted, a little surprised at how forceful Patrick felt, but continued to kiss back, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist and keeping him close. Patrick suddenly pushed back, looking at Pete with dark intent before pulling out almost completely and then slamming back in with brute force. 

 

“ _ Fuck!”  _ Pete screamed out, nails digging in to the soft, pale skin of Patrick’s back. “Fuck, that hurt so good! More! Patrick, more!”

 

Adam watched on, fascinated, but not all surprised at Pete’s reaction to pain. Pete looked so pretty, face scrunched up and sweaty, grimacing and wailing, as Patrick let go and started to pound into that firm, muscular ass. Watching these two come together was spectacular. He would have these images burned into his memory for a lifetime. There was a distant song of melancholy ringing in the background of Adam’s mind. A pang of longing for something as bright and brilliant as what Pete and Patrick shared. Even watching Patrick through those months of endless suffering and unquenchable pain, there was something undeniably magical about Patrick that Adam wished could be his. Seeing him with Pete right now, at their most stripped and unguarded, defenseless and exposed, Adam understood first hand what “meant to be” really looked like.

 

There would be a time for him. One day. For now, knowing he was able to help repair a love that was lost before it could even spark, it was enough for now. 

 

Adam reached out and took Pete’s hand, twining their fingers together; pale and tan skin, two sets of hands with fingernails painted onyx and deep violet, respectively. Pete’s head turned to look upon Adam’s face as the other man took their joined hands and brought them to his lips to brush his lower lip along Pete’s knuckles. His ice blue eyes were bright as he watched Pete’s face carefully. 

 

Pete felt inundated in all of the very best ways, immersed in every single one of his greatest fantasies, and filled to overflowing. 

 

It was far too much and he was a breath away from spilling over. 

 

“Trick...Trickybaby...I can’t...I need to...oh  _ fuck,  _ I’m going to come! Please…”

 

Patrick made a guttural noise and lifted Pete’s leg, folding the older man over, and started to drive into him faster, harder, more more more...

 

Adam, releasing Pete’s hand, reached down between them, taking Pete’s trickling cock in his hand, and working it with expert determination as Patrick continued to snap his hips frantically. “Pete, Pete..come on, baby. Come for me, come for me, I love you so much…”

 

Pete bore down, threw his head back, and screamed as he came and came and came.

 

Patrick held on, like the determined little bastard he was, until Pete’s body started to slack before he he gave a few uncoordinated thrusts, pressing himself deeply into Pete’s ass, and letting go. Releasing years of pent up desire, longing, heartache, confusion, regret…

 

Everything was now peacefully blank. 

  
  


**

  
  


Patrick was relishing the feeling of weightlessness, feeling soft fingertips card through his wet hair, scratching his scalp lazily. He tried to reach up to return the favor to Pete, but his arms were useless, so he flopped back down with a grunt. Pete laughed. 

 

“Don’t laugh at me, Peter. I’m tired, you fucker.” Patrick quipped with irritation. “Shut the fuck up and cuddle me. Now. Sleep.”

 

Adam, slightly smarter and a little more used to Patrick’s post coital crankiness, managed to hold back his laughter. “Not yet, darling. Let me help clean you both up first. You’re covered in...jizz.”

 

Patrick groaned, pressing his face to hide in the sweaty hollow of Pete’s shoulder, shifting his body a bit, and feeling the quickly cooling wetness pressed between their bodies. “Oh, come the fuck on. Gross.”

 

Pete started to laugh boisterously. “Dude!  _ I _ came the fuck on  _ you!”  _

 

Adam smiled as he watched Patrick slap and curse at Pete, which only served to make the older man laugh even harder. He was already in the bathroom, grabbing a few hand towels, running a two under the warm water tap, and returning to the bed to help clean up his boys. Patrick was trying to move off of Pete, but Pete was clinging to him tightly in a full bodied baby-koala grasp. “You can’t escape my love now, Trickydoll!”

 

Patrick managed to shift a bit, causing his already softened cock to slip free from Pete’s ass. Pete released Patrick from his grip and grimaced. “Oh...oh, dude. That felt weird.”

 

“You’ll get used to that eventually,” Adam advised as he crawled back onto the bed and started to wipe down Pete’s belly with one of the washcloths. Patrick was flopped on his back beside Pete, an arm draped over his eyes. “Patrick, darling. You may want to get rid of that before you start to leak all over yourself.”

 

Patrick lifted his arm, peering up at Adam with sleepy, confused eyes. “Huh?”

 

Clucking his tongue, Adam handed Pete one of the dry towels, and moved over to Patrick’s side of the bed. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, darling.” Patrick only nodded in acknowledgement and covered his face again.

 

Pete, now cleaned and dirty towels discarded off to the side of the bed, sat up, propped on his elbow, watching with fondness as Adam took care of Patrick. “Aww, look at him. He’s so pretty. All cranky and fucked out.” 

 

Patrick responded by shooting a middle finger with the hand that was draped across his face. 

 

“ _ Awwwww!  _ Look at him! So pretty!”

 

“Yes, he really is,” Adam agreed. “And so are you, sweetheart.” Now finished with the task at hand, Adam got off the bed and started to tug the sheets over Patrick before heading towards the bedroom door. 

 

“Where are you going, Adam?” Pete asked, a soft, puppy dog look on his face. 

 

“What?” Patrick mumbled, uncovering his face and looking up. “No, don’t leave.”

 

“It’s okay, I’m just going to crash in the living room.”

 

Pete and Patrick were both quick to voice their disagreement. “No way. Get your ass over here and fucking cuddle us.” Patrick demanded.

 

“Seriously, get over here. I call the middle!” Pete chirped as he crawled under the covers, pushing Patrick farther to the opposite side of the bed to make room for Adam. “Get in here, Adam. I want to be smothered.

 

Adam smiled, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his chest, and climbed into the bed. Adam spooning up to Pete’s back, Pete draped across Patrick’s chest, three hands piled atop each other as they lay in peaceful silence, waiting for sleep to overcome them.

  
  


**

  
  


Adam awoke slowly the next morning to the feeling of being bracketed between two warm and welcoming bodies, tightly pressed to either side of him, delivering licks and kisses to his neck and chest. 

 

“Mmm, good morning,” he muttered sleepily.

 

“Evening, actually,” Patrick muttered between kisses along Adam’s neck. 

 

“You boys are good at making me lose track of time,” Adam chuckled. “We should get something to eat. I’m starving.”

 

Patrick lifted his head and gave Pete a filthy smirk and a head nod. Pete gave him a glowing grin and a returning nod of his own. “Oh, we’re hungry, too. But I think room service will have to wait just a tiiiiiiiiiiiny bit longer. We have something else we’d like to feast on first.”

 

Pete sat up, pulling Adam with him, tugging at the singer’s shirt. “But first, all this shit has to go. We simply  _ cannot  _ have you covered any longer.”

 

“It’s absolutely unacceptable,” Patrick agreed, tugging at Adam’s sleep pants.

 

Soon, the dark haired singer was liberated of his sleep clothes. Pete and Patrick gazed down at his nude body with deep approval, appreciating the sight before them. Adam was a glorious specimen; long and lean, gleaming and glowing with so much pale skin that stretched over a muscular frame. Returning to their previous ministrations, Patrick and Pete worked their mouths ardently down Adam’s body, cataloguing every inch of skin with their warm, hungry mouths.

 

He grew harder and harder with each moment that his beautiful boys attended to his body. So beautiful.

 

Adam watched, mesmerized, as twin pink tongues lapped ardently along his cock; Pete and Patrick crowded close between his legs, stroking each other as they paid lustful adulation to the man that helped bring them together. 

 

Sinful supplication.

 

They traded eager licks and electrifying sucks, two sets pretty mouths fighting for dominance. It was fumbling and messy, and it shouldn’t have been enough to bring Adam off, but with the coiled passion from watching his pups earlier this morning, it was definitely enough. 

 

Wrapping a hand behind the head of one golden boy and one raven haired beauty, Adam held on as he came between their fucked-flush lips.

 

Lapping up every last drop that spilled, Pete and Patrick kissed one another, trading the taste of Adam between one another. 

 

“Jesus, you guys are going to kill me,” Adam groaned as he watched. 

 

Pulling away with a lick to his lips, Pete smiled. “That was a delicious appetizer. Now, want do you want to order from room service?” 

  
  


**

  
  


The three day break from tour went by in a lust fueled haze. Each moment was spent inside the confines of the hotel room, calls and texts from Patrick and Adam’s bandmates inviting them out for sightseeing around the city or grabbing a meal left completely ignored. 

 

Soon, the need to return to reality could no longer be ignored.

 

Pete watched somberly as Patrick and Adam packed their suitcases the morning they were due to check out and return to their tour bus. His own backpack was already packed, having only brought a handful of items with him. 

 

“Well,” Pete said with a frown as Patrick zipped the last of his bags and propped it up against the front door. “I guess this is it? For now, at least? I hope? Are we...are we going to...will you still want me after the tour?”

 

Patrick started to feel tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t want this to end just yet. They  _ just  _ got started. Everything still felt so scary and fragile and he couldn’t bare to have Pete go home yet. “Come with me. I don’t want you to go home right now. I need you.”

 

Pete gazed up at him with tears in his own eyes. “But I don’t have--”

 

“We can buy clothes along the way. There’s only a month left of the tour. I’ll get whatever you need while we travel and then we can go home.  _ Together _ . Please say yes, Pete. Please? I don’t want to you leave.  _ Please.” _

 

Pete’s face illuminated into the brightest smile. “Yes.  _ Yes!  _ I don’t have anything more important to attend to than you. And home isn’t home until you’re there. Fuck it! I don’t need much. I’ll fucking buy whatever I need and we’ll figure shit out as we go along. Besides,” Pete said with a smirk, “I don’t think I’ll be wearing clothes all that often.”

  
  


**

  
  


_ The Summer of Sin,  _ as it came to be known by our trio, passed by with Pete falling in seamlessly. They shared every moment together, sharing beds and sharing the stage. Pete started to join them, much to the crowds delight, during  _ Fever  _ and  _ Sleepwalker.  _ Their steamy little interlude in  _ Fever  _ caused a huge uproar in the Fall Out Boy community. Video clips and gifs of a (usually) shirtless Pete grinding against Patrick, Adam, and Tommy flooded the internet and providing much inspiration for the fanfic community.

 

The fans had no idea how close to the truth they were.

  
  


**

  
  


Adam and Patrick were lounging lazily on the couch of the front lounge of their private bus, two episodes deep into a _Downton_ _Abbey_ marathon. Patrick had his head in Adam’s lap, the older man was absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of Patrick’s hair, when they heard the sound of the back lounge door opening. Pete had been back there for some time now and the couple on the couch figured their bus mate was simply taking a nap. After a few moments, Pete cleared his throat, letting them know he wanted their attention. 

 

“What’s up, Pete? You get any sleep?” Patrick asked without moving from his position on Adam’s lap, eyes still on the screen.

 

“Ah- _ hem,”  _ Pete repeated, this time with more dramatic emphasis. Adam turned his head towards Pete, mouth dropped open in surprise, and poked Patrick in his side to get his attention.

 

“Ow, fucker, what do you--” Patrick’s voice caught in his throat when he sat up to fight with Adam and instead saw what Pete was wearing. “Holy shit.”

 

Pete was standing in the hallway of the lounge dressed in a scandalous pair of red panties.

 

“So, funny story,” Pete smirked, cocking his hip to the side, running a hand down his chest, and stopping to cup the obviously straining erection through the delicately thin material. “I was going through some of your things, Trick, and I found a bunch of these beautiful little panties. But all the tags were still on them and they looked too pretty to go unused so I figured…” Pete trailed off, biting his lip and shrugging his shoulders.  

Adam smirked, leering at Pete appreciatively. He had purchased several pairs of pretty panties, in various styles from delicate and lacy to a coquettish boyshort cut, for Patrick in hopes he’d indulge the singer in his fantasy. And while Patrick was generally game for any and all things that Adam suggested, panties seemed to be Patrick’s hard line.

 

Full body wax, pain play, humiliation and degradation, Daddy kink...those were okay, but panties? Yeah,  _ that _ was the line for Patrick. 

 

However, Pete obviously didn’t have any of those reservations. Actually, there didn’t seem to be any line as far as Pete was concerned. 

 

While Adam had wanted Patrick to don those delicate undergarments, we definitely wasn’t opposed to seeing Pete in them. “Ooo, look at you, sweetheart. She a thirsty pussy, huh?” 

 

“Adam!” Patrick yelped in shock. 

 

“It’s all good, Tricky. He ain’t wrong. Look, we only have two days left of the tour and I wanted to spice up things up a little before it all ends.”

 

Adam hummed as he stood up and started to circle Pete, taking in his beauty, then reaching out and snapping the band of his pretty, pretty panties. “Red is really nice color on your skin, sweetheart.”

 

Pete stretched and preened, loving the attention. “Why don’t we all go to the back lounge and I’ll give you guys a nice little fashion show, hmm?”

 

Thankfully, they had a good five hours to kill before they arrived at their next stop. 

  
  


**

 

**Epilogue**

 

_ February 2017 _

 

Adam opens the door to his spacious Los Angeles home, welcoming Pete and Patrick in with a huge smile. “Jesus Christ, you guys, it’s so fucking good to see you again! Come in, come in!”

 

Patrick is the first to pull Adam into a powerful bear hug, holding on tightly for several moments. “God, it is  _ so good  _ to finally see you again.” Patrick said and released the taller man, beaming beautifully up at him. “You look amazing!”

 

Adam smiled, blush hidden behind a mask of perfectly groomed facial hair, a new look that he adopted after the release of his last album,  _ The Original High.  _ “So do you, Patrick! And you, too, Pete. Come here, man!”

 

Pete eagerly accepted an embrace from Adam, hugging back almost as tightly as Patrick did. “I’m so glad you managed to make some time for us simple beings to see you, Rock God.“ Pete teased.

 

Adam giggled and lead them into the living area where the trio were quickly greeted by the  _ click click click  _ of nails on the tiles. An adorable little tan basenji and chihuahua mix with huge elf-like ears appeared and was pawing eagerly at Pete and Patrick, tail wagging in a blur, and letting loose curious little  _ wuffs.  _

 

“Pharaoh, sit.  _ Sit.  _ Oh my god, he has no manners when he gets excited. He loves meeting new people.” Adam apologized as he bent down to pick up the happy little pup. 

 

“So  _ this  _ is the legendary Pharaoh. I’ve seen all the posts about him on your Twitter and Instagram.” Pete said as he reached out to offer the dog his hand to sniff before petting him, much to the pup’s delight. “He’s fucking adorable!”

 

“Yeah, he’s definitely king of the castle and very much a diva.” Adam set Pharaoh back down on the floor and motioned for everyone to sit, the dog joining them, taking his rightful place besides his owner, sitting upright and proud as if he were holding court. 

 

“So, it’s been a minute, huh?” Adam started. After the  _ Glam Nation/Soul Punk  _ tour wrapped up in 2011, they parted ways. Pete and Patrick moved in together, enjoying some much needed isolation, creating and nurturing their own little universe, before deciding to pick things back up with Fall Out Boy. They needed those months of alone time, learning one another all over again, and becoming a fully functional  _ PeteandPatrick.  _ They kept in touch with Adam, regularly texting and emailing each other, always with the promise to meet up again soon. 

 

But things came up. Fall Out Boy reunited, resulting in a wildly successful album and tour cycle. Adam’s contract with his record label ended and he amicably parted ways with 19 Entertainment and quickly made things official with Queen, as their new lead singer, touring with the legendary rock band. Then, Fall Out Boy came out with  _ American Beauty/American Psycho  _ and was swept up in yet another tour cycle. Adam followed shortly after with the an album release and tour of his own for  _ The Original High.  _

 

With so many projects going on, it was just impossible to carve out a time to meet up in person. But, as always, serendipity was on their side and they all just happened to have a large break at the same time. So, when Patrick called Adam up asking if they could get together in person, Adam was actually able to say yes. He invited the couple to crash at his place for an extended visit and a much needed catch up. 

 

Patrick smiled and nervously rubbed his palms on the lap of his jeans. “Well, we actually wanted to let you in on a pretty big bit of news. That’s really why I wanted to come out and see you in person so quickly. Which, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything you have going on. I hope we’re not intruding or getting in the way of anyone else here or--”

 

“Patrick,” Adam interrupted, knowing the (now) dirty blonde was about to start wandering down a road filled with mindless, nervous babble. “Dude, chill. It’s just me and Pharaoh these days. Like I said, he’s the only king in my life right now so just...what’s the big news?”

 

Patrick looked over at Pete, who nodded his head with a huge grin. The blonde took in a deep breath and looked back at Adam. “Well, Pete and I...we just decided to get married. He...he proposed last week and I...well, you see, it’s--”

 

“Oh my god, shut up, Trickybabe.” Pete interrupted playfully, grabbing Patrick’s left hand, and pulling it up to show off the simple platinum ring with a single modest stone set within the thick band. “To quote the much esteemed and greatly revered Frank Reynolds, ‘I’m gonna make that whoor my wife.’”

 

“ _ Pete!  _ You dick!” 

 

Adam and Pete cracked up but Patrick couldn’t hold up the facade of anger for too long. He was simply too excited. When they all settled down a bit, Patrick addressed Adam again. “I wanted you to be the first person we told. We’re gonna tell our family and friends soon, and then make an official public announcement in maybe a month or so, but...I really...it was really important to me that we tell you, and only you, first. That’s why I was so pushy about meeting up and--”

 

“You haven’t told  _ anyone  _ else?” Adam asked. “Dude. You guys...I’m..I’m honored. But, why? I would think your parents or your band would be the first to know. Why me?”

 

“To be fair,” Pete started. “I’m pretty sure, on some level, they already know. Or they at least can see it coming from a mile away. I’m not the most subtle person when I have an idea in my head. I’m just lucky that Tricky is  _ completely  _ oblivious. Like,  _ insanely  _ oblivious.” Pete ignored the smack that Patrick delivered to his arm. “You see, you were the person that was pretty much single handedly responsible for bringing us together. I mean, maybe it would have eventually happened, I dunno. What you did for Patrick, how you helped him and healed him...and what you did for me, how you talked me down and kept me from flying off...dude, you worked a miracle.”

 

“Pete, that was fucking cheesy. Don’t quote your own lyrics at people. You sound like a jackass.”

 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Anyways, you were pretty much able to fix a decade of our bullshit and for that we are forever grateful. We thought it was fitting you be the first to know, you know?”

 

Adam sank back into the cushions of the couch. “Wow. That’s...thank you.”

 

“And also,” Patrick grabbed Adam’s hand. “We’d really,  _ really  _ like for you to be the best man at our wedding.”

 

“Best man or maid of honor?” Adam joked, though it only left Patrick with a confused expression on his face. “I’m just playing. But yes, I accept. It would be a privilege to be in your wedding party.”

 

They spent a few hours afterwards catching up, becoming reacquainted with one another, telling tales of their various tour adventures. After a long day of friendly banter and a dinner of Asian fusion delivery, Adam showed Pete and Patrick to the guest room that he had prepared for their stay. Adam was turning on his heels to go leave and go back to his room when he felt a firm hand grip his arm. Turning around he saw it was Pete, a dark yet playful look in his eye. He traded a quick glance over to Patrick, who nodded back at Pete, a matching gleam in his eyes.

 

“So, Adam. We were wondering something.” Pete purred as Patrick stepped forward wrapping an arm around Adam’s waist. “How do you feel about banging it out, one more time? For old time’s sake?”

 

Patrick stood up on his tiptoes to place a sensual kiss on the tall man’s cheek. “It’s a celebration, bitches. Come on. What do you say?”

 

Adam grinned, pulling both men into a hug against his broad chest. “Well, how can I say no to that? If that’s what the happy couple what, then I’m down for some fun. Come on, let’s go to my room. There’s a lot more room for us to fool around in there.”

 

“Sounds good to us.” Patrick said, voice dropped a few octaves making Adam’s skin prickle with the promise of many good things to come. 

 

“Wonderful. Let’s play.”

  
  


***

 

**Aftermath - Adam Lambert**

_ Have you lost your way? _ __  
_ Living in the shadow of the messes that you made _ __  
_ And so it goes _ __  
_ Everything inside your circle starts to overflow _ __  
_ Take a step before you leap _ __  
_ Into the colors that you seek _ __  
_ You get back what you give away _ __  
_ So don't look back on yesterday _ __  
_ Wanna scream out _ __  
_ No more hiding _ __  
_ Don't be afraid of what's inside _ __  
_ Gonna tell ya, you'll be alright _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ Anytime anybody pulls you down _ __  
_ Anytime anybody says you're not allowed _ __  
_ Just remember you are not alone _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ You feel the weight _ __  
_ Of lies and contradictions that you live with everyday _ __  
_ And it's not too late _ __  
_ Think of what can be if you rewrite the role you play _ __  
_ Take a step before you leap _ __  
_ Into the colors that you seek _ __  
_ You get back what you give away _ __  
_ So don't look back on yesterday _ __  
_ Wanna scream out _ __  
_ No more hiding _ __  
_ Don't be afraid of what's inside _ __  
_ Gonna tell ya, you'll be alright _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ Anytime anybody pulls you down _ __  
_ Anytime anybody says you're not allowed _ __  
_ Just remember you are not alone _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ Before you break you have to shed your armor _ __  
_ Take a trip and fall into the glitter _ __  
_ Tell a stranger that they're beautiful _ __  
_ So all you feel is love, love _ __  
_ All you feel is love, love _ __  
_ Wanna scream out _ __  
_ No more hiding _ __  
_ Don't be afraid of what's inside _ __  
_ Gonna tell ya, you'll be alright _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ Wanna scream out _ __  
_ No more hiding _ __  
_ Don't be afraid of what's inside _ __  
_ Gonna tell ya, you'll be alright _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ Anytime anybody pulls you down _ __  
_ Anytime anybody says you're not allowed _ __  
_ Just remember you are not alone _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ __  
_ In the aftermath _ _  
_ __ In the aftermath

  
  


_ *** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Patrick was singing to Pete is _Soma_ by Smashing Pumpkins.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos are lovely but comments are what keeps the writer energized. So don't be stingy with your affections!
> 
> Also, pass by The Laudanum Cafe anytime for stimulating conversation and free (virtual) drinks! You can find me on Tumblr at [LaudanumCafe](http://laudanumcafe.tumblr.com)


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